M    IDE    5EM 


T  A  JL 


PURITANS 


THE  REGICIDES—  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.— 
CASTINE. 


lO 


"D  ll*€W    ^ 
I 


NEW-HAVEN: 
PUBLISHED  BY  A.  H.  MALTBY. 

SOLD  ALSO  BY  CARTER,  HENDEE  AND  BABCOCK,  CROCKER  AND 
BREWSTER,  BOSTON  :  G.  AND  C.  AND  H.  CARVILL,  AND  JONA. 

LEAVITT,  NEW-YORK:  JOHN  GRIGG,  AND  E.  LITTELL, 

rilJLADELPIIIA  ;    LUKE    LOOMIS,    PITTSBURGH  ; 

N.  GUILFORD,  CINCINNATI;  AND  vf.  R. 

BABCOCK,  CHARLESfON,  B.  C. 

1831. 


District  of  <£omi£ ctCcut,  sis, 

BE  it  remembered,  Tliat  on  the  Sth  day    of 

liz — ~1  April,    Anno  Domini  1831,  A.  H.  MALTBY  of 

II"*  "•)!  tlie  said  District,  hath  deposited  in  tliis  Office  the 

*•  *  title  of  a  Book,  the  title  of  which,  is  in  the  words 

following— to  wit: 

"  Tales  of  the  Puritans :— the  Regicides;  the  Fair  Pilgrim; 
Castine." 

The  right  whereof  he  claims  as  proprietor,  in  conformity 
with  an  act  of  Congress  entitled  "  an  act  to  amend  the  st- 
several  acts  respecting  copy  rights." 

CHAS.  A.  INGERSOLL, 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  Connecticut. 


BALDWIN  AND  TREADWAY,  PRINTERS, 


THE  REGICIDES. 

We  dio-  no  lands  Jor  tyrants  but  their  irravcb-. 


M269Q5S 


THE    REGICIDES. 


CHAPTER  I. 


IT  was  a  bitter  afternoon  in  December,  the 
air  was  intensely  keen  and  piercing,  the  snow 
had  indeed  at  length  ceased  falling,  but  the 
heavens  looked  drear  and  wintry.  The  ponds 

in  the  village  of  G were  all  frozen,  not  with 

that  thin  and  glassy  coating  the  first  ray  of 
sunshine  dissolves ;  a  smooth  and  substantial  sur 
face  now  bore  the  buoyant  tread  of  the  skaters. 
A  finer  snow  fall  had  not  been  known  in  the  sea 
son,  the  solid  and  beautiful  substance  lay  in  glit 
tering  expanse,  on  gardens  and  meadows,  hills 
and  dales,  loading  the  trees  with  a  new  and  fea 
thery  foliage,  and  covering  as  with  a  mantle,  eve 
ry  deformity  of  the  relentless  season. 

It  was  now  four  o'clock,  as  was  evident  from 
the  appearance  of  the  common,  in  the  centre  of 
the  village,  thronged  with  children  who  were 
rushing  delightedly  from  the  walls  of  their  lite 
rary  prison. 

Education  had  not  at  that  period  reached  its 
present  state  of  refinement ;  and  the  joyful  groups 
that  now  surrounded  the  school  house,  compri 
zed  the  whole  juvenile  population  of  the  village, 
without  respect  to  the  distinctions  of  age,  rank, 
2 


14  THE  REGICIDES. 

or  sex.  A  shout  of  eager  merriment  swelled  in 
the  air  as  the  boys  surveyed  for  a  moment  the 
brilliant  expanse  before  them,  and  then  plunged 
recklessly  into  the  cold  and  beautiful  element, 
dashing  it  about  them,  and  venting  in  a  thousand 
joyous  freaks  the  untamed  sportiveness  of  their 
spirits.  But  the  feminine  part  of  the  company 
still  lingered  around  the  door. 

"Richard!  Richard  !"  cried  a  rosy  little  dam 
sel  on  the  platform,  dressed  in  a  green  mantle 
and  hood,  "Richard  Lcet,  I  would  like  to  know 
how  Alice  Weldon  and  myself  are  to  walk  home 
through  these  drifts  ?" 

"  Ah !  on  your  feet,  to  be  sure,"  replied  the 
courteous  youth,  at  the  same  time  saluting  her 
with  a  freshly  molded  ball.  "  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  any  other  way  of  walking  Susan  ?" 

"I  tell  you,  Richard,"  continued  the  first  im 
patiently,  "  I  shall  freeze  to  death  before  we  get 
home,  and  as  for  poor  little  Alice  she  will  perish 
in  the  first  drift.  If  Henry  were  only  here,"  she 
added,  gathering  up  a  handful  of  snow,  and  vain 
ly  seeking  to  revenge  the  insult,  "  I  am  sure  he 
would  teach  you  to  treat  me  more  politely." 

"Oh  there  they  are,"  exclaimed  a  beautiful 
child,  who,  clad  in  a  scarlet  coat  with  bonnet 
and  mittens  of  the  same  hue,  stood  gazing  through 
the  window.  "They  have  come  at  last."  And 
with  a  spring  of  delight  she  appeared  at  the  door, 
her  sweet  and  merry  laugh  still  echoing  through 
the  building. 

'You  will  ride  on  my  sled  won't  you  Alice  ?" 
shouted  '•  \eral  voices  at  once,  as  a  party  of 
them  c  .  -tinning  from  an  adjacent  shed,  drag 
ging  th  le  little  vehicles  swiftly  after  them. 
These  Vv  kly  filled  with  their  fair  burthens, 


THK    RF.CJiriDES.  15 

but  Alice  still  lingered  on  the  step  while  the  rest 
continued  in  vain  to  urge  her. 

"  Now  you  may  as  well  hold  your  peace,  every 
one  of  you,"  exclaimed  a  proud,  fine  looking  lad, 
who  at  that  moment  caine  up,  his  handsome  fea 
tures  glowing  with  exercise,  "  she  will  ride  on  my 
sled,  and  I  will  snow-ball  any  one  that  interferes, 
and  bury  him  in  the  first  drift.  Say,  Alice,"  he 
continued,  softening  his  voice,  "did  you  not  pro 
mise  to  ride  with  none  but  me?" 

The  little  girl  replied  by  springing  on  the  sled, 
and  Henry  after  placing  in  her  lap  his  Virgil  and 
dictionary,  and  exhorting  her  to  hold  fast,  bound 
ed  off  over  drift  and  pit,  nor  paused  until  they 
had  safely  reached  the  gate  of  their  home. 

It  was  a  large  white  building,  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  distant  from  the  common,  surrounded  with 
trees  now  leafless  and  snow-clad,  and  presenting 
an  air  of  comfort  and  convenience  unequaled  in 
the  village.  The  smoke  was  curling  warm  and 
blue  from  its  chimneys  ;  nevertheless  the  eyes  of 
our  juvenile  heroine  and  her  knight,  turned  un- 
tempted  away  : — to  the  warm  and  springing  pulse 
of  childhood,  there  is  many  a  merrier  thing  than 
the  sparkling  of  a  winter's  hearth. 

The  meadow  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street, 
just  in  front  of  the  well  finished  mansion  before 
which  they  now  paused,  was  with  the  juvenile  popu 
lation,  at  the  present  season  of  the  year,  a  place  of 
extremely  fashionable  resort ;  and  for  two  especial 
reasons.  The  one,  a  hill  that  reared  itself  in  the 
center,  and  presented  at  this  moment  to  the  eyes 
of  the  wistful  gazers  one  unbroken  and  towering 
mass  of  whiteness  ;  the  other,  that  broad  and 
famed  expanse  of  water  that  stealing  from  the 


16  THE    REGICIDES. 

adjacent  wood  now  lay,  stiff  and  glittering  on  the 
plain. 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  such  a  triumph,"  murmured 
the  proud  boy  to  himself,  "  to  have  the  first  ride 
on  Briar  hill.  Better  than  the  Latin  premium  h- 
self."  "  Are  you  cold,  Alice,"  he  continued, 
turning  hesitatingly  to  his  little  charge,  "  I  mean 
very  cold." 

"  Not  very"  replied  the  child,  but  with  a  strong 
accent  on  the  qualifying  word. 

"  Then  we  will  have  a  beautiful  ride,"  contin 
ued  the  other,  darting  impatiently  across  the  way 
just  as  the  gay  group  he  had  left  behind,  appear 
ed  slowly  bringing  up  the  rear. 

An  irritated  and  impatient  shout  burst  from 
them  as  they  perceived  the  ambitious  design. 
"  Don't  let  him  beat  us,"  echoed  in  many  an  ear 
nest  tone — but  it  was  too  late.  Notwithstanding 
his  lovely  little  burthen,  Henry  Davenport  toiled 
rapidly  up  the  precipitous  ascent,  arriving  again 
at  the  frozen  pond  just  in  time  to  welcome  his 
disappointed  rivals. 

A  scene  of  the  most  exhilirating  amusement 
soon  succeeded  to  the  momentary  chagrin.  Sled 
after  sled,  loaded  to  overflowing,  descended 
swiftly  the  steep  declivity,  bounding  like  things 
of  light  over  the  frozen  pond,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  landing  its  passengers  in  the  high  snow 
drift  beyond.  Then  was  heard  mingling  with 
the  creaking  snow,  the  loud  and  merry  shout  01 
the  spectators  on  the  hill,  and  the  laugh  of  the 
fearless  skaters,  as  they  glided  gracefully  along 
on  their  slippery  footing. 

But  in  the  midst  of  this  interval  of  exuberant 
sport,  there  was  a  sudden  pause. 

"  We  never   can   have  a   moment's  sliding," 


THK    REGICIDES.  17 

exclaimed  Susan  in  a  low  vexed  tone.  "  There 
is  some  one  coming  from  the  house  to  warn  us 
in.:> 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  answered  Alice  Weldon,  as 
she  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  pulling  the  mit 
tens  from  her  little  rosy  fingers  and  seeking  to 
relieve  them  from  the  intense  cold  by  rubbing 
them  together.  "  It  is  no  one  but  Margaret." 

"At  all  events,  we'll  have  another  slide,"  mut 
tered  the  disappointed  Richard.  "  Any  body  that 
bears  a  message  to  me,  can  take  the  trouble  to 
come  up  the  hill,  I  fancy."  The  proposal  seem 
ed  to  meet  with  universal  approbation,  and  with 
one  accord  the  whole  party  scampered  through  the 
snow  till  they  had  once  more  gained  the  summit. 

The  person  whose  appearance  had  excited  so 
much  tumult,  now  rapidly  approached.  Judging 
from  the  testimony  of  her  extremely  youthful 
countenance,  any  one  might  have  seen  that  she 
herself  had  but  recently  emerged  from  an  age, 
when  the  amusement  she  was  now  contemplating, 
would  have  been  shared  with  enthusiastic  plea 
sure.  As  it  was,  a  light  and  glad  smile  betokened 
her  sympathy.  The  complexion  of  the  young 
lady  was  exceedingly  fair,  a  soft  bloom  gathered 
over  it  as  she  toiled  up  the  hill,  light  and  cluster 
ing  curls  lay  on  her  forehead.  The  face  was  not 
one  of  perfect  beauty ;  and  yet  there  was  in  the 
light  of  her  large  blue  eye,  an  expression  of 
feminine  sweetness,  which  could  not  fail  to  ren 
der  that  countenance  lovely  to  those  who  met  its 
glance. 

"Ah  !"you  have  come  to  take  a  ride  with  us,"  ex 
claimed  Henry  in  a  coaxing  tone,  as  the  young 
lady  joined  the  group. 

2* 


18  THE    REGICIDES. 

"  And  in  fine  company,  truly,"  replied  Miss 
Weldon,  laughing  and  shaking  her  head,  though 
her  eye  at  the  same  moment,  rested  with  a  some 
what  wishful  glance  upon  a  party  just  then  de 
scending.  "  A  fine  figure  I  should  make,  Henry, 
sliding  down  hill  with  a  party  of  truants  like 
yourself. 

Susan  Leet  drew  up  her  Hp  with  scorn. 

"Oh,  but  this  once,  Margaret,  you  cannot 
think  what  beautiful  sledding  it  is,"  continued 
Henry. 

"  Don't  tease  cousin,"  whispered  Susan  mali 
ciously.  "  She  is  engaged  to  be  married,  you 
know,  and  would  not  be  seen  riding  down  hill  for 
the  world. 

Miss  Weldon  reddened  slightly.  "  I  am  in 
vested  with  authority  to  order  you  all  from  the 
grounds,"  she  added  in  the  same  light  and  hu 
morous  tone.  "  Come,  gentlemen  and  ladies,  you 
are  waited  for  at  yonder  mansion." 

"  And  we  will  give  you  a  ride  for  your  trou 
ble,"  replied  Henry,  while  Richard  bounded  down 
the  steep.  "  Do,  do,  Margaret,"  he  continued, 
as  the  children  crowded  upon  the  sled. 

"  Ah,  do.  here  is  but  just  room  enough  for  you 
shouted  several  intreating  voices  ;  and  the  young 
lady,  after  a  hasty  survey,  perceiving  no  one  in 
sight,  yielded  at  once  to  the  natural  gayety  of 
her  heart,  and  they  were  instantly  darting  along 
the  declivity.  After  a  short,  almost  precipitous 
descent,  the  slope  was  long  and  gradual,  and  they 
had  leisure  to  survey  the  objects  before  them. 

"  Look,  Margaret,"  exclaimed  Susan,  at  that 
moment  directing  her  eye  to  the  road  beneath. 
"  Do  you  not  see  that  gentleman  looking  at  us  so 
earnestly?  Mr.Russel,  as  I  live,"  she  continued,. 


THE    REGICIDES.  19 

with  an  uncontrollable  burst  of  laughter  at  the 
idea  of  her  cousin's  mortification,  "  and  two  more, 
coming  the  other  way.  Oh,  Margaret,  what  can 
you  say  to  the  minister?" 

"  Stop  the  sled,  Henry  ; — let  me  get  off,  I  in- 
treat  you,"  rapidly  articulated  the  young  lady; 
but  a  moment's  reflection  convinced  her  that 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  of  these  intreaties 
could  be  complied  with,  without  danger  to  the 
limbs  and  lives  of  the  whole  party;  and  while  the 
provoking  little  Susan  seemed  to  exult  in  her  em 
barrassment,  laughing  until  her  eyes  streamed 
with  tears,  she  was  compelled  to  go  on  unresist 
ingly. 

"Good  evening  to  you,  Miss  Weldon,"  ex 
claimed  a  well  dressed  youth,  who  approached 
the  party  just  as  the  young  lady  had  arisen  from 
the  bank,  and  stood  shaking  the  snow  from  her 
dark  mantle.  The  countenance  of  the  young 
student  was  interesting,  and  at  this  moment  al 
most  handsome,  for  the  sparkling  flush  of  ex 
ercise  had  gathered  over  its  usual  paleness. 
"You  must  have  had  a  charming  ride,  Miss 
Weldon,"  he  continued,  with  an  expressive  smile. 
There  was  something  slightly  satirical  both  in 
the  look  and  tone  of  the  speaker,  and  Margaret 
Weldon  was  not  the  one  to  be  ridiculed  with 
impunity ;  but  the  keen  retort  that  trembled  on 
her  lips  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of 
the  other  personages  whose  ill-timed  appearance 
had  created  so  much  embarrassment. 

These  were  travelers,  as  their  well  muffled  ap 
pearance  sufficiently  indicated  ;  and  a  second 
glance  was  sufficient  to  convince  her  that  they 
were  not  only  strangers,  but  persons  of  a  far 
different  stamp  of  character  from  those  with 


20  THE    REGICIDES. 

whom  she  was  wont  to  associate.  They  were 
both  youthful  in  appearance.  The  elder  and 
shorter  of  the  two,  was  completely  enveloped  in 
the  folds  of  a  huge  coarse  over-coat ;  he  wore  on 
his  head  a  bear-skin  cap,  and  a  pair  of  well  fur 
red  moccasons  protected  his  feet.  Two  small  and 
twinkling  eyes  were  the  only  portions  of  his  fea 
tures  visible,  through  the  double  and  triple  coils 
of  worsted  that  surrounded  them. 

The  other  was  attired  much  more  carefully  in 
the  style  of  a  fashionable  cavalier,  and  a  cloak  of 
costly  and  gay  materials  was  his  protection  from 
the  cold. 

But  Margaret  had  scarce  time  to  make  these 
observations,  ere  the  latter  gentleman  hastily  ad 
dressed  her. 

"  Prythee,  my  pretty  damsel,  have  pity  on  a 
couple  of  errant  and  half  frozen  knights,  and  tell 
us  if  a  certain  gentleman  of  the  name  of  L,eet 
resideth  hereabouts.  We  should  have  reached 
his  house  ere  this,  or  our  directions  deceive  us." 

The  style  of  address  was  evidently  not  relished 
by  the  young  lady,  she  drew  up  her  slight  form 
with  an  air  of  dignity,  replying  with  an  expression 
of  cold  politeness,  to  the  forward  advances  of  the 
stranger. 

"  My  uncle,  sirs,  the  Governor  of  the  Colony, 
resides  in  this  dwelling  ;  whether  he  be  the  person 
you  seek,  or  not,  as  strangers,  you  are  welcome 
to  his  hospitality." 

There  was  no  need  of  a  second  invitation,  and 
the  whole  party  now  entered  the  large  enclosure 
that  surrounded  the  house.  The  snow  had  been 
thrown  up  on  either  side  from  the  long  straight 
gravel  walks  which  led  to  the  portico  in  front  of 
the  building.  Miss  Weldon  now  conducted 


THE    REGICIDES.  21 

them  across  an  angle  of  the  spacious  hall  and 
throwing  open  the  door,  at  once  introduced  them 
into  the  keeping  room  of  her  uncle's  family.  The 
apartment  was  large,  unostentatiously  but  com 
fortably  furnished.  A  well  polished  book-case 
mounted  on  a  chest  of  drawers,  occupied  one 
corner  of  the  room,  and  a  mahogany  cased  clock 
another;  while  that  on  the  remote  side  from  the 
fire,  was  filled  by  an  enormous  cupboard,  the 
door  of  which  was  now  thrown  open,  revealing 
rare  treasures  of  porcelain  and  silver.  But  the 
apartment  contained  objects  of  far  higher  interest 
to  the  cold  and  hungry  travelers;  a  large  round 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room,  spread  with  a 
snow  white  cloth  and  covered  with  various  dishes, 
and  on  the  hearth  a  huge  blaze,  that,  roaring  and 
sparkling  in  the  capacious  chimney,  diffused  a  light 
and  pleasant  glow  throughout  the  whole  apart 
ment.  Little  Susan,  at  the  moment  of  their  en 
trance,  was  engaged  in  throwing  down  the  long 
chintz  curtains,  and  as  the  candles  had  not  yet 
made  their  appearance,  the  objects  of  the  room 
were  only  illuminated  by  the  brilliant  fire  light. 
The  other  children,  having  previously  effected 
their  escape  to  the  house,  were  now  seated  around 
the  hearth,  engaged  in  satisfying  their  hunger, 
each  from  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk. 

There  were  no  other  persons  present,  and  Miss 
Weldon,  after  placing  chairs  for  her  guests  near 
the  grateful  blaze,  and  laying  aside  her  hat  and 
cloak,  was  hastening  to  leave  the  apartment. 

Just  at  this  moment  the  door  she  was  approach 
ing  opened,  and  an  elderly,  pleasant-looking  ma 
tron  made  her  appearance.  The  good  lady  paused 
in  considerable  surprise  at  the  sight  of  her  unex 
pected  guests. 


22  THE    REGICIDES. 

"Mr.  Russel,  aunt,"  said  Miss  Weldon,  in 
rather  an  embarrassed  tone,  as  she  met  her  glance 
of  perplexed  inquiry,"  "and  the  strangers,"  she 
added  in  a  still  lower  voice,  "  are  strangers  as 
much  tome  as  to  yourself," 

The  young  student  was  received  with  an  air 
of  the  most  cordial  welcome,  and  from  the  cha 
racter  of  the  smile  which  at  that  moment  illumined 
the  benevolent  countenance  of  Mrs.  Leet,  there 
seemed  some  peculiar  claim  upon  her  kindness 
and  affection. 

In  reply  to  the  urgent  invitations  of  their  hos 
tess  the  strangers  assured  her  that  their  business 
allowed  of  slight  delay,  and  that  they  had  yet 
many  miles  to  travel  ere  their  journey  was  ac 
complished,  repeating  also  the  request  for  an  im 
mediate  interview  with  the  Governor  of  the  Co 
lony. 

"  He  is  coming,"  exclaimed  Richard,  who  now 
re-appeared  from  the  hall ;  and  the  next  moment 
the  master  of  the  house  presented  himself.  His 
figure  was  singularly  erect,  rather  inclining  to 
corpulency,  and  the  frosts  of  time  had  fallen 
thickly  on  his  head.  The  countenance,  while  it 
was  marked  with  a  degree  of  shrewdness  and 
good  humor,  exhibited  a  certain  unyielding  look, 
which  perhaps  formed  its  most  striking  character 
istic. 

He  advanced  slowly  to  the  fire  deigning  only  a 
single  glance  towards  his  guests,  and  drawing  the 
shovel  from  its  resting  place  in  the  corner,  began 
deliberately  to  separate  from  his  boots  the  parti 
cles  of  snow  that  still  clung  to  them. 

"Here  is  Mr.  Russel,  my  dear,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Leet  reprovingly,  "  just  come  from  New-Ha 
ven,  in  spite  of  cold  and  snow." 


THE    REGICIDES.  23 

"Ah,  ah,  good  evening  to  you,  Mr.  Russel," 
replied  the  old  gentleman,  casting  another  slight 
glance  upon  him,  and  again  resuming  his  em 
ployment.  "The  blood  must  be  younger  in  your 
veins  than  in  mine,  Mr.  Russel." 

"The  supper  has  waited  for  you,  some  time," 
continued  Mrs.  Leet,  in  the  same  tone  of  gentle 
admonition,  "  and  these  gentlemen  are  anxious 
to  see  you  on  business." 

"Supper  and  business, "continued  the  governor, 
directing,  as  he  spoke,  one  of  his  keen  and  quick 
glances  upon  the  strangers.  "We  will  take  our 
supper  first,  Mrs.  Leet,  and  talk  of  business  here 
after.  No  objections,  sirs,  I  hope,"  he  added,  as 
the  knight  of  the  blue  cloak  was  about  to  attempt 
a  remonstrance.  "  I  attend  to  no  business  until 
we  have  taken  our  repast,"  and  he  set  down  the 
shovel  with  an  emphatic  air.  "Come,  gentle 
men,  doff  your  cloaks,"  he  added  in  rather  a  more 
gracious  tone,  as  the  smoking  dishes  made  their 
appearance,  "  sit  down  with  us,  and  I  am  at  your 
service.'' 

The  tone  of  decision  was  not  to  be  resisted  ; 
and  without  further  preamble,  the  strangers  pre 
pared  to  comply  with  the  peremptory  invitation. 
The  table  presented,  in  a  small  space,  a  variety 
of  cheer  seldom  surpassed  in  more  sumptuous 
and  costly  entertainments;  some  alterations  and 
additions  had  indeed  been  made  since  the  en 
trance  of  the  visiters,  and  the  whole  now  exhib 
ited  an  assemblage  of  inviting  fare,  which  it 
would  have  been  hard  for  the  famished  guests  to 
have  refused.  We  grieve  to  say  that  these  ob 
servations  were  principally  made  by  the  strangers 
during  the  Governor's  fervent  petition  for  a  hea 
venly  blessing  on  their  repast,  which  was  in  truth 


24  THE    REGICIDES. 

protracted  to  an  unusual  length,  though  the  whole 
family  joined  in  it  with  expressions  of  apparent 
devotion.  The  quick  and  rather  impatient^2mew 
which  the  young  gentlemen  uttered  at  its  conclu 
sion,  failed  not  to  draw  upon  them  the  admiring 
glances  of  the  children  by  the  fireside,  and  a 
gentle  expression  of  surprise  from  the  fair  damsel 
who  presided  at  the  board.  The  attention  of  the 
strangers,  however,  was  too  much  absorbed  by 
the  important  occupation  before  them,  to  notice 
any  unfavorable  impressions  that  might  have 
been  made,  and  they  now  laid  about  them  with 
an  air,  that  evinced  a  prudent  determination  to 
make  the  best  of  their  delay. 

"  You  have  had  a  long  journey,"  said  Mrs. 
Leet,  in  an  inquiring  tone,  as  she  pressed  upon 
her  guests  the  unnecessary  invitation  to  make 
themselves  at  home  in  her  dwelling.  "  You  must 
have  been  out  in  the  storm,  I  presume." 

"  We  were,  madam,"  replied  the  younger 
stranger,  pausing  a  moment  in  his  employment, 
"  our  journey  has  lasted  since  the  early  dawn, 
and  I  fear  is  likely  to  last  until  another." 

"  You  are  going  further,  then?"  continued  Mrs. 
Leet,  in  whose  gentle  heart  a  slight  sensation  of 
the  curious  began  to  awaken. 

"  We  think  of  it  madam,"  replied  the  elder, 
interrupting  his  companion's  more  courteous  re 
ply.  There  was  now  another  pause,  and  Mrs. 
Leet  seemed  revolving  in  her  mind,  how  it  might 
best  be  broken. 

"  We  shall  be  sorry  to  see  you  go  forth  from  the 

shelter  of  our  roof  to  night  Mr. Pardon  me 

Sir,  H  have  forgotten  your  name." 

"  Kellond,  at  your  service,  madam, — Thomas 
Kellond,  and  my  friend  Mr.  Kirk." 


THE    REGICIDES.  25 

u  Ah  !  thank  you — let  me  help  you  to  a  bit  of 
this  cold  chicken  Mr.  Kellond,  you  must  have 
found  but  poor  accommodations  on  your  route. 
You  dined  at  Middle  town,  I  presume  Sir,"  contin 
ued  Mrs.  Leet. 

"  We  ate  our  last  meal  at  Hartford,  madam," 
replied  Mr.  Kellond,  "  and  certainly  had  nothing 
to  complain  of,  for  we  were  greeted  with  the  best 
cheer  the  Governor  of  the  colony  could  afford." 

Governor  Leet  who  had  till  this  moment  affect 
ed  perfect  indifference  to  the  communications  of 
the  strangers,  now  lifted  his  large  blue  eyes,  fix 
ing  them  alternately  upon  each  of  his  unknown 
guests,  with  a  gaze  of  deep  and  fluctuating  curi 
osity.  A  conversation  which  he  had  previously 
maintained  with  Mr.  Russel,  was  however  quickly 
resumed,  though  from  time  to  time  an  anxious 
glance  at  the  strangers,  intimated  a  greater  de 
gree  of  interest  in  their  communications  than  he 
chose  to  express. 

The  repast  was  at  length  completed,  and,  the 
table  having  been  removed  to  a  less  conspicuous 
station,  the  family  again  encircled  the  fire.  Mean 
while  every  thing  had  been  arranged  according 
to  the  well  established  rules  of  the  household.  A 
fresh  supply  of  fuel  crackled  on  the  neatly  swept 
hearth,  the  stand,  the  lights  and  the  books,  were 
all  in  waiting.  On  the  other  side  of  the  fire  place, 
the  children  surrounded  a  low  round  table,  pur 
suing  their  respective  avocations  with  an  air  of 
decorum,  which  contrasted  strongly  with  the  fro 
lics  on  the  hill.  Susan  Leet  sat  with  a  demure 
countenance,  knitting  a  pair  of  woolen  hose  for 
her  brother,  while  the  latter  leaned,  with  frown 
ing  brows,  upon  his  slate,  beside  her,  flourishing 
his  pencil  with  many  a  threatening  manoeuvre, 
3 


26  THE    REGICIDES. 

over  the  mysterious  problems  beneath.  The  youth 
did  indeed  occasionally  pause  amid  his  mathe 
matical  reveries,  to  examine  into  the  conduct  of 
an  intelligent  kitten  sporting  beneath  the  table,  at 
that  moment  dextrously  engaged  with  Susan's 
ball,  and  amusing  her  fancy  with  the  graceful  un 
dulations  of  the  long  white  thread,  as  it  darted 
across  her  way. 

But  no  such  trivial  sport  had  power  to  arrest 
the  attention  of  Henry  Davenport,  as  he  bowed 
his  ^oung  head  over  the  classic  page.  His  hand 
supported  his  forehead,  straying  among  the  dark 
and  beautiful  locks  that  shaded  it,  and  whenever 
the  eye  of  the  youthful  scholar  was  for  a  moment 
lifted,  there  was  that  in  its  deep  lustre  that  told 
of  a  mind  fitted  to  revel  among  the  rich  fountains 
of  ancient  lore,  gifted  with  the  inspiration  of  ex 
alted  fancy,  and  the  energy  of  a  daring  spirit. 

Alice  Weldon,  whose  history  is  woven  with  our 
tale,  sat  in  a  low  chair  beside  him,  in  the  first 
bloom  of  infant  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  with 
the  tints  of  cradle  dreams  still  bright  in  her  young 
fancy.  Her  eyes  seemed  intent  on  the  person 
ages  who  now  surrounded  the  fire,  their  naturally 
pensive  expression  often  vanishing  amid  smiles 
and  dimples,  as  she  met  their  glances  in  return. 
Indeed  there  were  others  who  now  began  to  sur 
vey  the  scene  with  much  interest. 

Governor  Leet,  after  exchanging  his  boots  for 
slippers,  had  seated  himself  by  the  opposite  stand  ; 
the  candles  were  snuffed,  the  spectacles  wiped 
and  replaced,  and  he  now  seemed  waiting  with  the 
most  comfortable  composure,  for  any  commmuni- 
cations  that  might  be  made.  The  silence  of  cu 
rious  expectation  pervaded  the  whole  apartment, 
interrupted  only  by  the  slight  and  occasional 


THE    REGICIDES.  27 

ringing  of  the  China  cups,  as  Mrs.  Leet  carefully 
wiped  and  replaced  them  on  the  waiter. 

Considerable  hesitation  seemed  to  exist  with 
the  strangers,  as  to  which  of  them  should  first  open 
their  embassy  ;  but  at  length  the  elder,  who  had 
hitherto  maintained  an  air  of  studied  reserve,  broke 
silence. 

"Governor  Leet,  the  business  with  which  we 
are  intrusted,  is  of  an  official  and  private  nature  ; 
it  would  be  well  that  we  had  fewer  witnesses." 

"  No  one  here  but  my  family,  I  believe," 
exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  his  eye  passing 
in  rapid  review  over  the  circle,  "  unless,  in 
deed,  we  except  this  young  friend  of  ours,"  and 
his  eye  rested  on  Mr.  Russel.  "  But  we  reckon 
liim  about  as  good  as  one  of  us,"  he  added, 
with  an  expression  of  pleasantry,  which  brought 
the  blood  in  richer  tides  to  Miss  Weldon's  cheek. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  I  believe  we  are  all 
to  be  trusted." 

"  Nevertheless  you  must  be  aware,  sir,"  replied 
Mr.  Kirk,  as  he  drew  forth  a  large  pocket  book, 
"  that  there  are  certain  undertakings  which  need 
to  be  executed  with  secrecy  and  despatch,  in  order 
to  insure  them  success." 

"  Perfectly,  sir,"  rejoined  the  Governor  quick 
ly,  as  the  young  gentleman,  after  carefully  exam 
ining  the  contents  of  the  pocket  book,  presented 
him  with  a  folded  paper.  The  Governor  glanced 
anxiously  over  it,  and  those  who  were  watching 
his  countenance  perceived  that  it  became  instant 
ly  and  strongly  flushed.  His  natural  composure 
of  aspect  was  however  soon  resumed,  and  he 
began  in  a  low  whisper  to  examine  its  contents. 

Miss  Weldon  was  seated  at  the  opposite  side  of 
the  stand  on  which  her  uncle  leaned,  and  she  be- 


28  THE    REGICIDES. 

came  instantly  aware  that  the  kind  of  humming 
tone  into  which  the  whisper  had  gradually  swelled, 
was  not  the  unconscious  and  unnecessary  sound 
it  seemed.  With  the  quickness  of  female  pene 
tration,  she  at  once  perceived  that  there  was 
something  in  the  contents  of  the  paper,  which  her 
uncle  desired  her  to  understand.  The  frill  she 
was  working,  dropped  from  her  hand,  and  leaning 
her  head  over  the  table  she  listened  with  breath 
less  interest  to  the  voice  of  the  reader.  After  a 
short  suspension,  the  low  murmur  again  com 
menced,  but  as  yet,  she  caught  nothing  but  a 
confused  mingling  of  words.  Presently  the 
sounds  became  more  distinct,  and  the  words 
"  treason  and  rebellion,"  were  plainly  distinguish 
ed.  Then  was  another  pause,  and  then  distinctly 
followed,  "  And  we  do  hereby  authorize  and  ap 
point  our  true  and  loyal  subjects" 

"  Governor  Leet,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Kirk  hastily, 
"  you  must  be  aware  that  the  revealing  of  state 
secrets,  may  be  attended  with  serious  conse 
quences." 

"  Aye,  aye,  true,  Mr.  Kirk,"  replied  the  old 
gentleman,  with  an  air  of  provoking  affability; 
and  he  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Then 
as  if  unconsciously  relapsing  again  into  his  for 
mer  tone,  "  And  we  do  hereby  command" 

"  Governors  and  magistrates  of  said  colonies" 

• "  all  possible  measures" "  imprisonment 

of  said  regicides,  and" "denounce  as  rebels" 

"  harbor  and  secrete  said  Whalley  and  Goff" 

"  who  in  any  wise  seek  to  defeat  said  Thomas 

Kirk  and  Thomas  Kellond,  in  the  accomplish 
ment  of  this  our  royal  mandate." 

The  voice  again  sunk  into  its  inaudible  mur 
mur  ;  but  Margaret  Weldon  had  heard  enough. 


THE    REGICIDES.  29 

The  Governor  now  re-folded  the  paper,  and  cast 
ing  a  single  glance  at  his  niece,  again  placed  it 
in  the  hand  of  its  owner. 

"And  what  service  is  required  of  me?"  he  asked, 
turning  again  to  the  English  cavaliers  who  had 
impatiently  waited  for  his  conclusion. 

"Governor  Leet,"  rejoined  Mr.  Kirk,  his  for 
mal  and  moderate  tones  slightly  quickened  with 
anger,  "You  must  be  aware  that  in  compelling 
us  to  hold  our  conversation  in  this  public  manner, 
you  debar  us  from  any  opportunity  of  making 
those  demands  our  occasions  may  require.  It 
cannot  be  expected  that  we  should  speak  of  our 
embassy,  without  a  due  degree  of  precaution." 

"Richard,  my  son,  tell  Willy  to  build  a  fire  in 
the  other  room.  Beg  your  pardon,  gentlemen, 
don't  be  uneasy,  we  shall  soon  be  able  to  discuss 
the  matter  privately." 

"  It  may  be  advisable  for  us  to  spare  you  this 
trouble,"  interrupted  Mr.  Kellond,  as  Richard 
prepared  to  obey.  "  Our  most  important  demand 
is  that  horses  may  forthwith  be  procured  for  us 
to  proceed  on  our  journey.  The  Governor  of 
Connecticut  hath  forwarded  us  thus  far,  and  we 
are  dependent  upon  your  good  offices  for  the  re 
mainder  of  the  journey."  Several  minutes'  silence 
succeeded  this  declaration. 

"  Governor  Leet,"  rejoined  Mr.  Kirk  impa 
tiently,  "  it  only  remains  for  you  to  inform  us, 
•whether  you  choose  to  furnish  us  with  convenien 
ces  for  traveling." 

"  As  to  that  I  cannot  answer  immediately,"  re 
plied  the  Governor  thoughtfully.  "It  must  be 
dangerous  for  man  or  beasl  to  cross  the  West 
Hollow  to-night.  How  was  it  Mr.  Russel  ?" 

"The  drifts  had  obstructed  the  way  so  com- 
3* 


30  THE    REGfCIDES. 

pletely,"  replied  the  student,  "  that  had  I  not 
been  entirely  familiar  with  it,  I  should  inevitably 
have  lost  the  track." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  inform  you,"  continued  the  Go 
vernor,  addressing  the  strangers,  "  that  my  best 
horse  is  at  this  moment  disabled,  and  the  other 
two  have  been  at  hard  sledding  all  the  day.  They 
are  out  of  the  question,  that  is  if  I  expect  to  see 
them  alive  again.  Nay,  Mr.  Kirk,  the  road  is  a 
wretched  one,  and  I  would  be  sorry  to  risk  the 
neck  of  the  best  conditioned  horse  in  the  Col 
ony." 

"  But,  father,  there  is  the  sorrel  colt"  cried 
Richard,  throwing  down  his  pencil,  and  prepa 
ring  to  enter  with  spirit  into  the  merits  of  the 
case. 

"  Please  attend  to  your  slate,  Master  Richard," 
replied  the  old  gentleman,  rather  impatiently; 
"  but  by  the  bye,  the  suggestion  is  not  so  bad," 
he  continued  with  apparent  hesitation.  "  The 
sorrel  colt — yes — it  will  do  well — he  is  a  vicious, 
fractious  thing,  and  the  sooner  his  neck  is  broken 
the  better.  That  is,  provided  he  breaks  no  neck 
but  his  own. 

"  An  excellent  proviso,  sir,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Kellond,  "but  as  it  would  be  rather  an  untoward 
circumstance  that  both  Mr.  Kirk  and  myself 
should  fall  with  him,  I  propose  that  my  compan 
ion  here  do  mount  the  animal,  while  I  proceed  on 
foot  after  him,  and  then  in  case  of  any  ill-timed 
display  of  temper,  one  of  us  at  least  would  sur 
vive  to  accomplish  the  embassy.  Also,  from 
what  you  have  mentioned  concerning  the  dispo 
sition  of  the  beast,  I  should  deem  it  extremely 
unlikely  that  he  would  for  a  moment  tolerate  any 


THE    REGICIDEI.  31 

additional  burthen  to  what  my  friend  Mr.  Kirk 
would  furnish." 

"  Me  !"— exclaimed  Mr.  Kirk,  with  an  ill  con 
cealed  expression  of  dismay.  "  I  do  not  know 
whether  you  are  in  jest,  Mr.  Kellond, — if  you 
are  not,  I  know  of  no  reason  why  your  neck 
should  be  held  in  higher  estimation  than  my 
own." 

"  But  to  cut  the  matter  short,"  continued  the 
Governor,  "  I  propose  that  you  remain  under 
this  roof  for  the  night,  and  in  the  morning,  as 
early  as  you  please,  you  shall  be  furnished  with 
accommodations  for  traveling."  The  gentle 
men  glanced  fora  moment  hesitatingly  upon  each 
other. 

"  We  accept  of  your  hospitable  invitation,  sir," 
replied  Mr.  Kellond,  "  upon  condition  that  you 
despatch  no  one  from  your  roof  this  night,  with 
intelligence  of  our  errand." 

"Certainly,  young  man,  I  promise  you  that  no 
one  leaves  my  roof  this  night,  unless  it  be  of  his 
own  free  will  and  accord  ;  and  moreover,  I  give 
you  my  word  that  nothing  concerning  your  em 
bassy  shall  be  repeated  by  me  to  any  one. 

Miss  Weldon's  countenance  at  that  moment 
grew  pale  at  the  thought  of  the  fearful  responsi 
bility  so  suddenly  devolved  upon  her;  for  she 
was  conscious  that  no  other  persons  in  the  apart 
ment  had  overheard  enough  of  their  communica 
tions  to  form  any  clue  to  the  nature  of  their  er 
rand.  She  felt  that,  to  her  exertions  alone,  her 
uncle  trusted,  for  conveying  the  intelligence  of 
this  new  warrant  to  the  unfortunate  exiles  who 
were  its  objects,  and  with  the  pride  and  heroism 
of  a  young  heart  she  resolved  to  endure  any  peril 
rather  than  disappoint  that  confidence. 


32  THE    REGICIDES. 

Of  the  present  condition  of  the  banished  judges 
she  knew  little.  Their  general  history  was  in 
deed  familiar  to  all ;  that  they  had  boldly  stood 
up  for  the  rights  of  conscience  and  freedom 
in  their  native  land,  even  until  the  blood  of  a 
royal  martyr  had  stained  their  path  ;  that  they  had 
once  ranked  high  in  that  proud  army  whose  valor 
had  awed  the  nations,  and  were  now  driven  help 
less  and  exiled,  seeking  succor  amid  men  of  the 
same  name  and  faith  with  themselves,  and  men 
who  professed  the  same  high  principles  of  ac 
tion  ;  these  were  facts  familiar  to  all.  Neither 
was  she  unaware  that  the  regicides  were  at  this 
moment  concealed  in  the  village  of  New-Haven, 
having  been  driven  from  their  original  place  of 
refuge,  by  the  intelligence  of  an  act  of  pardon 
excluding  them  from  its  privileges,  and  a  warrant 
authorizing  his  majesty's  subjects  to  apprehend 
them  wheresoever  they  might  be.  She  was  aware 
also  that  the  chief  men  of  the  colony  favored  their 
concealment  among  them,  affording  them  various 
disguises;  and  she  believed  that  in  one  of  these 
she  herself  had  once  seen  them,  though  uncon 
scious  of  it,  at  the  moment  of  their  interview. 

To  communicate  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport 
the  intelligence  she  had  thus  singularly  acquired, 
seemed  the  only  method  of  averting  their  ruin. 
This  must  also  be  effected  before  morning,  and  it 
only  remained  that  she  should  speedily  resolve 
upon  a  proper  messenger.  At  first  thought,  the 
embassy  seemed  of  too  delicate  a  nature  to  be  en 
trusted  to  a  second  person,  and  she  determined 
herself  to  brave  the  inclemency  of  the  weather 
and  in  spite  of  snow  and  cold,  to  obtain  this  night 
an  audience  of  Mr.  Davenport.  But  a  recollec 
tion  of  the  fearful  drifts  that  impeded  the  way, 


THE    REGICIDES. 

soon  convinced  her  that  this  would  be  a  mere 
waste  of  life  and  courage.  Margaret  Weldon  was 
a  betrothed  bride ;  and  her  eye  soon  rested  on 
one  who  combined  in  her  estimation,  all  the  ne 
cessary  qualifications,  for  so  difficult  an  underta 
king. 

The  evening  now  wore  slowly  away.  There 
had  been  a  considerable  effort,  on  the  part  of  the 
governor  to  sustain  a  conversation  with  his 
guests ;  but  they  now  seemed  to  have  exhaust 
ed  all  peaceable  topics  and  none  appeared  wil 
ling  to  interrupt  the  awkward  silence.  In  spite 
of  efforts  at  cordiality,  mutual  distrust  and  sus 
picion  evidently  existed  between  them. 

An  appearance  of  the  evening  refreshment 
consisting  of  nuts  and  apples  did  indeed  restore  a 
slight  degree  of  cheerfulness,  and  during  the  pe 
riod  employed  in  partaking  of  it,  Miss  Weldon 
left  the  apartment.  Presently  after,  a  light  knock 
was  heard  on  the  outer  door. 

"It  is  a  person  wishing  to  speak  with  Mr.  Rus- 
sel"  said  the  servant,  who  having  but  just  entered 
from  the  kitchen,  hastened  to  obey  the  summons. 

"Ask  him  to  walk  in  then,  Clara,"  said  the 
governor,  "and  don't  stand  with  the  door  open." 

"I  have,  sir,"  replied  the  servant,  "but  Mr. 
Russel  is  requested  to  step  to  the  door."  The 
gentleman  thus  called  for,  now  taking  a  lamp 
made  his  way  to  the  hall,  closing  after  him  the 
door  of  the  parlour.  A  female  figure  well  wrap 
ped  in  a  mantle,  with  bonnet  so  large  as  entirely 
to  conceal  her  features,  was  standing  in  the  por 
tico. 

"Samuel,"  said  the  sweet  voice  of  Margaret 
Weldon,  for  it  was  none  other  than  she,  "  Samuel 
Russel,  I  pray  you  close  the  door,  and  listen  to  me  ; 


34  THE    REGICIDES. 

I  have  much  to  tell  you."  The  youth  could  scarce 
refrain  from  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  but  he 
immediately  complied  with  her  request. 

"Margaret,  you  are  wild,  I  am  sure  you  are," 
he  exclaimed  in  a  subdued  voice  as  he  stepped 
into  the  portico. 

"I  assure  you,  Samuel  I  could  find  no  other  way 
of  doing  my  errand ;  for  the  strangers  were  watch 
ing  every  movement  so  suspiciously  I  dared  not 
to  send  for  you.  But  there  is  no  time  for  apolo 
gies.  The  gentlemen  in  the  parlour  are  those 
despatched  in  search  of  Whalley  and  Goffe,  the 
papers  they  gave  uncle  Leet  is  the  warrant  for 
their  arrest,  and  unless  we  can  communicate  with 
them  this  night,  to-morrow  the  judges  will  fall  in 
to  their  hands.  Uncle  Leet  has,  as  you  know, 
given  them  his  word  that  he  will  make  no  exer 
tions  in  their  behalf,  but  Samuel,  you  and  I  are  pri 
vate  individuals,  and  we  need  not  fear  that  our 
conduct  should  draw  upon  the  whole  colony  the 
anger  of  the  king." 

"  You  speak  nobly,  Margaret ;  I  will  proceed 
immediately  to  New-Haven,  and  warn  them  of 
their  danger,  but  there  are  many  things  to  be 
considered.  The  strangers  will  be  constantly  on 
the  watch  during  the  night  and  certainly  will  not 
suffer  any  one  to  leave  the  enclosure  unnoticed. 
I  doubt  not  their  suspicions  are  all  awake,  and 
even  could  I  succeed  in  effecting  my  escape,  my 
absence  in  the  morning  would  reveal  the  secret." 

"You  must  set  out,"  replied  Margaret  quickly, 
"  as  soon  as  the  gentlemen  leave  the  parlour,  and 
before  they  have  time  to  reconnoitre  you  will  be 
out  upon  the  main  road.  And  as  for  the  morning, 
1  fancy  the  strangers  will  wait  for  a  slice  or  two ; 
and  you  will  be  back  to  an  early  breakfast." 


THE    REGICIDES.  35 

"  Nay,  Margaret,  but  it  is  quite  impossible," 
replied  the  young  gentleman,  almost  shuddering 
at  the  idea  of  the  perils  he  had  so  recently  esca 
ped,  "it  is  quite  impossible  that  I  should  return 
again  on  foot,  and  as  to  horses,  they  seem  totally 
out  of  the  question." 

"But  the  sorrel  is  not  so  bad,"  continued  Mar 
garet,  repressing  a  smile,  "I  do  think  that  uncle 
has  slandered  him  a  little.  But  Samuel  we  are 
talking  too  long.  If  you  will  go,  the  horse  shall 
be  ready  for  you  at  the  other  door.  The  moment 
they  leave  the  parlor  make  your  way  into  the  kitch 
en,  and  I  will  see  that  it  is  cleared  of  spectators." 
Mr.  Russel  had  scarce  time  to  assent  to  these  pro 
positions,  ere  Margaret  had  vanished  from  the 
steps,  disappearing  the  next  moment  around  the 
corner  of  the  mansion. 

It  was  not  until  the  hour  of  evening  prayer  that 
Miss  Weldon  again  made  her  appearance.  There 
was  an  expression  of  deep  concern  on  her  coun 
tenance;  and  Mr.  Russel  saw  that  her  hand  trem 
bled  slightly,  as  she  leaned  upon  it  while  the 
governor  read  aloud  from  the  pages  of  the  sacred 
word.  The  portion  selected  was  from  the  holy 
melodies  of  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  a  lesson 
beautifully  appropriate  to  the  state  of  the  perse 
cuted  exiles,  and  there  was  something  in  its 
promises  of  heavenly  protection  that  fell  soft  and 
soothing  on  the  troubled  hearts  of  some  who 
heard  it.  Neither  was  the  prayer  that  ensued 
better  calculated  to  allay  the  prejudices  of  the 
strangers.  It  forgot  not  the  afflicted,  the  banish 
ed,  the  outcast;  and  there  was  a  pathos,  and  even 
sublimity  of  expression,  in  the  fervent  entreaty 
that  God  would  remember  those,  to  whom  man 
had  forgotten  to  be  gracious. 


36  THE    REGICIDES. 

Immediately  after  the  conclusion  of  the  eve 
ning  devotions,  Margaret  again  left  the  apart 
ment,  directing  as  she  passed  a  slight  and  quick 
glance  towards  the  student. 

The  tedious  evening  had  now  drawn  to  a  close ; 
and  the  governor  with  a  heavy  yawn  failed  not  to 
testify  his  pleasure  at  the  signal  for  retirement. 

The  moment  the  door  of  the  parlor  had  closed 
upon  the  strangers,  Mr.  Russel  hastened  to  fulfil 
his  appointment.  As  he  entered  the  kitchen, 
Miss  YVeldon  was  standing  by  the  fire  and  his 
coat  and  cloak  hanging  over  the  chair  beside  her. 
There  was  no  time  for  ceremony,  and  while  the 
young  man  was  casing  his  feet  in  the  warm  double 
socks  that  had  been  provided  for  him,  Miss  Wei- 
don  hastily  tied  around  his  neck  the  fold  of  an 
enormous  worsted  tippet,  like  what  in  these  days, 
would  be  styled  a  comforter.  In  addition  to  all 
the  other  articles  of  clothing,  she  now  essayed  to 
throw  over  him  a  huge  drab  cloak  or  rather  blank 
et,  sufficiently  ample  in  its  dimensions  to  en 
velope  his  whole  person;  but  this  last  act  of 
her  authority  Mr.  Poissel  prepared  to  resist  with  a 
considerable  degree  of  firmness. 

"  Margaret,  it  is  unbeseeming  my  character ; 
it  looks  precisely  like  an  Indian's  blanket,  indeed 
I  will  not  wear  it." 

"  But  you  must,  Samuel,"  replied  the  other  in  a 
whisper.  "I  borrowed  it  of  Indian  Jack  on  pur 
pose  for  a  disguise  ;  and  whoever  meets  you  now 
will  never  dream  that  it  is  not  he,"  but  with  all 
her  anxiety,  the  young  lady  could  scarce  refrain 
from  a  smile  at  the  awkward  appearance  of  her 
lover.  But  the  occasion  was  too  serious  for  the 
indulgence  of  mirth,  and  throwing  open  the  door 
she  pointed  to  the  identical  little  sorrel,  whose 


THE    REGICIDES.  37 

unfortunate  eccentricity  of  character  had  been 
so  faithfully  portrayed  by  the  Governor,  tied  to  a 
post  of  the  shed  and  gazing  indignantly  around 
him.  The  moon  was  partially  obscured  ;  but  the 
reflection  from  the  snow  rendered  every  object 
visible. 

"  Speak  gently  to  him — he  will  never  bear  to 
be  scolded,"  said  Margaret,  in  a  suppressed  whis 
per,  "and  now,  Samuel,  heaven  speed  you."  In  a 
moment  after,  the  sorrel  and  his  burthen  moved 
swiftly  down  the  avenue  ;  and  Miss  Weldon  re 
tired  to  her  apartment,  without  further  communi 
cation  with  the  family. 


CHAPTER  II. 


NOTWITHSTANDING  the  warning  of  an  early 
breakfast,  the  sun  was  shining  high  through 
the  windows  of  the  parlor  ere  the  guests  of  Gov. 
Leet  made  their  appearance. 

"  Eight  o'clock,  by  Jupiter,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Kellond,  as  they  entered  the  room,  for  though  the 
breakfast  table  was  spread,  it  was  apparently  un 
occupied.  "My  word  for  it,  Tom,  that  wily  old 
rascal  means  to  outwit  us."  But  his  exclamations 
were,  at  that  moment,  interrupted  by  the  sight  of 
an  unexpected  auditress.  Miss  Weldon  was 
standing  in  one  of  the  recesses  of  the  windows; 
but,  as  her  figure  was  partly  hid  with  the  drapery 
of  the  curtain,  her  presence  had,  at  first,  been 
totally  unnoticed. 

"  Good  morning  to  you,  fair  damsel,"  continued 
Mr.  Kellond,  with  an  air  of  undaunted  effrontery; 
and,  approaching  the  window,  he  began  to  ad 
dress  her  in  that  free  and  careless  manner  which 
had  before  been  so  displeasing.  Miss  Weldon, 
after  returning  his  salutations  with  a  haughty 
nod,  continued  still  to  gaze  from  the  window. 
Directly  opposite  was  the  hill  from  which  she  had 
first  seen  them,  now  thronged  with  all  the  chil 
dren  of  the  vicinity.  Miss  Weldon  was  appa 
rently  g?i/:,iig  at  their  sports,  though  from  time  to 
time  an  ;  rxious  glance  down  the  road,  might 


THE    REGICIDES.  39 

have  convinced  a  careful  observer,  that  some 
object  of  higher  interest  claimed  her  atten 
tion. 

"Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  said  the  kind 
and  soft  voice  of  Mrs.  Leet,  who  at  this  moment 
entered  the  room.  "  Margaret,  my  dear,  you 
should  have  told  me  that  the  gentlemen  were 
waiting,"  and  the  good  lady  hastened  out  again 
to  order  her  long  delayed-breakfast. 

"  And  where  can  Mr.  Russel  be  so  long,  this 
morning  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leet  as  the  family  with 
only  this  exception  encircled  the  table.  "  Have 
you  called  him,  Willy  ?" 

"  His  door  is  locked,"  replied  the  servant,  "  per 
haps  he  has  gone  for  a  walk."  A  shadow  at  that 
moment  fell  upon  the  wall. 

"And  here  he  is,"  cried  Richard,  who  was 
gazing  from  the  window,  while  a  deep  and  sud 
den  flush  illumined  the  features  of  Miss  Wel- 
oon. 

"  You  have  taken  an  early  walk,  sir,"  said  the 
Governor,  as  the  young  gentleman  with  an  an 
imated  countenance  now  entered  the  apart 
ment,  "  but  better  late  than  never.  Richard, 
move  your  chair  for  Mr.  Russel."  Margaret  gaz 
ed  earnestly  upon  her  uncle's  countenance,  but 
with  all  her  scrutiny  she  found  it  impossible  to 
discover  whether  his  apparent  indifference  on  this 
occasion  was  real  or  assumed. 

"  Allow  us  again  to  remind  you,  sir,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Kirk,  when  the  repast  was  nearly  completed, 
"  that  it  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  set  off  on  our 
way  immediately  after  breakfast,  and  we  request 
that  horses  may  be  provided  for  that  purpose 
according  to  your  promise  last  evening." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  replied  the  old  gentleman, 


40  THE    REGICIDES. 

with  an  emphatic  hem.  "Margaret,  my  dear," 
he  continued,  turning  to  Miss  Weldon,  "  you  were 
petitioning  yesterday  for  a  ride,  and  I  dare  say 
Mr.  Russel  here,  with  all  his  love  for  pedestrian 
excursions,  would  make  no  objections  to  a  seat  in 
the  sleigh.  Well,  I  have  business  in  town,  this 
morning,  and  here  are  a  couple  of  dainty  footed 
travelers,  ready  to  faint  at  the  mention  of  a  snow 
drift.  I  believe  we  must  e'en  tackle  up.  Willy, 
my  man,  tell  Simon  to  get  out  the  sleigh." 

"  It  is  unnecessary  to  put  you  to  this  trouble," 
exclaimed  Mr.  Kirk,  for  they  were  now  rising 
from  the  breakfast  table.  c;  I  can  assure  you, 
Governor  Leet,  we  must  go  on  without  further 
delay.  The  horses  referred  to  last  evening  must 
surely  be  refreshed  by  this  time,  and  we  will 
excuse  the  want  of  the  vehicle  you  mention." 

"  Aye,  aye — much  obliged  to  you,  make  your 
selves  easy,  gentlemen,  I  am  an  old  man,  and 

•»•!         ^4.4.,,         i    U  " *     A  "* 

HKe  my  UWH   way   p*cn,y  mud*  j  IQY^I*   «na 

make  yourselves  easy,"  and  so  saying  the  govern 
or  quietly  walked  off  to  attend  to  the  fulfilment 
of  his  orders.  Miss  Weldon  had  left  the  room 
to  prepare  herself  for  her  ride  ;  and  the  strangers 
finding  resistance  vain,  slowly  equipped  them 
selves  for  their  journey.  A  loud  ringing  of  sleigh 
bells,  at  the  door,  presently  announced  that  the 
vehicle  was  in  readiness ;  but  the  Governor  was 
not  to  be  hurried,  and  vain  and  fruitless  were  the 
significant  and  angry  glances  of  the  strangers, 
while  he  slowly  and  comfortably  prepared  to  meet 
the  inclemencies  of  the  weather.  At  length, 
completely  muffled  from  head  to  foot,  the  old 
gentleman  sallied  forth,  followed  by  the  remainder 
of  the  party.  The  kind  "good  morning,"  from  the 
group  at  the  door,  mingled  with  the  sound  of  the 


THE    REGICIDES.  41 

cracking  whip  ;  and,  with  a  loud  and  merry  jingle, 
the  sleigh  started  forth  on  its  journey.  The  hor 
ses  were  fleet,  and  the  road  not  so  bad  as  they  had 
been  led  to  fear,  so  that  by  the  time  they  had 
reached  New-Haven  green,  the  clock  on  the  old 
meeting  house  was  only  pointing  the  hour  of 
noon,  and  its  clear  tones  were  yet  ringing  through 
the  village,  as  they  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the 
parsonage. 

"  Gentlemen/'  said  the  venerable  pastor  of 
New-Haven,  after  perusing  the  documents  and 
quietly  listening  to  the  representations  of  the 
strangers,  "  you  are  probably  not  aware  that  nei 
ther  Governor  Leet  nor  myself  can  furnish  you 
with  any  assistance  in  our  official  capacity,  until 
an  assembly  of  the  magistrates  of  the  colony  has 
been  convened,  which  will  have  full  power  to 
consider  your  requests." 

"  You  forget,  certainly,  sir,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Kirk,  "that  we  are  acting  under  the  special  ex 
ercise  of  an  authority,  to  which  your  assembly  is 
only  a  subordinate  institution." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  the  governor 
hastily,  "the  assembly  is  the  supreme  power  of 
this  colony,  and  by  no  means  a  subordinate  in 
stitution.  Without  its  sanctions  we  do  not  choose 
to  act  in  any  emergency." 

"  And  pray,  Reverend  Sir,"  answered  Mr.  Kel- 
lond,  a  strong  expression  of  contempt  animating 
his  features,  "  will  it  please  you  to  inform  us,  at 
what  time  this  high  and  honorable  assembly, 
to  which  the  two  houses  of  parliament  are  as  no 
thing,  doth  hold  its  sittings.  We  would  grieve 
to  detract  from  the  reverence  due  to  so  exalted  a 
tribunal ;  but,  as  I  have  before  remarked  to  you, 
our  business  requires  despatch." 
4* 


42  THE    REGICIDES. 

"In  the  space  of  half  an  hour,"  replied  Mr.  Da 
venport,  without  at  all  noticing  the  evident  irony 
of  the  gentleman's  address,  "  in  half  an  hour, 
the  magistrates  will  be  convened.  It  is  impos 
sible  that  this  should  be  effected  sooner,  mean 
while  let  me  intreat  you  to  make  yourselves  at 
home  in  my  dwelling;  we  will  signify  to  you  our 
conclusions  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  tedious  interval  occupied  by  the  assembly 
in  its  deliberations,  was  principally  employed  by 
the  strangers,  in  surveying  the  appearance  of  the 
flourishing  little  village  which  surrounded  them. 
They  had,  however,  sometime  ago  returned  from 
their  excursions,  ere  the  governor  and  Mr.  Da 
venport  made  their  appearance. 

"You  have  been  walking,"  said  the  latter, 
complacently,  as  he  drew  a  chair  to  the  hearth. 

"  We  have,"  replied  Mr.  Kirk,  in  an  abrupt 
and  ungracious  tone,  "  but  the  result  of  your 
meeting,  sir." 

"  Aye  truly,"  exclaimed  the  governor  recollect 
ing  himself.  "Then  I  must  inform  you,  your 
petition  has  been  presented  to  the  magistrates  of 
the  colony." 

"  And   what  then  ?" 

"  The  subject  was  ably  discussed  by  our  reve 
rend  friend  here,  Mr.  Davenport,  and  deacon 
Hezekiah  Gilbert,  also  the  worthy  Mr.  Norton 
made  some  interesting  remarks,  on  the  subject  of 
our  relation  to  the  king,  in  connection  with  that 
of  your  petition." 

"  Your  resolution,  sir,  your  resolution,  we  will 
spare  the  details." 

"  And  it  was  resolved,"  continued  the  govern 
or,  composedly,  "  that  as  a  body  of  men  intrust 
ed  with  the  government  of  this  colony,  for  the 


THE    REGICIDES.  43 

suppression  of  vice  and  the  preserving  of  order 
among  us,  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  arrest 
of  his  Majesty's  subjects,  except  incase  of  actual 
transgressions  of  the  laws  by  which  we  are  gov 
erned.  Resolved,  that  the  exiled  judges,  \V  lull- 
ley  and  Goffe  have  not  to  our  knowledge,  in  any 
way  incurred  the  penalties  of  said  laws,  therefore, 
as  magistrates,  we  are  not  authorized  to  arrest 
them.  Resolved,  moreover,  that  we  will  not  in 
any  wise  hinder  the  accomplishment  of  your  er 
rand,  by  secreting  or  harboring  said  judges." 

"Then,"  replied  Kirk,  rising  hastily,  while  his 
whole  countenance  colored  with  indignation, 
"by  the  authority  of  this  paper,  will  I  search  eve 
ry  house  among  you,  until  those  rebels  are  drag 
ged  forth  to  justice.  At  your  peril  refuse  me.  And 
wo  to  the  traitor  who  dares  secret  them." 

<:  High  words — high  words,  young  man,"  said 
the  governor  calmly,  "  but  take  care,  that  you 
do  not  make  it  my  painful  duty  to  set  your  feet  in 
the  stocks,  for  abuse  of  your  elders.  As  to  the 
search  you  propose,  we  shall  certainly  make  no 
objections.  Every  house  in  this  village  is  open 
to  your  examination,  only  take  a  kindly  warning 
that  our  own  laws  are  in  full  force,  and  our  ma 
gistrates  in  perfect  readiness  to  see  them  ex 
ecuted." 

The  threat  which  this  reply  contained,  was  not 
entirely  lost  upon  the  person  to  whom  it  was  ad 
dressed.  Indeed  the  idea  of  personal  danger 
seemed  greatly  to  soften  the  asperity  of  his  feel 
ings.  A  close  examination  of  the  village,  was 
indeed  immediately  commenced;  but  the  rude 
deportment  previously  displayed  was  now  ex 
changed  for  an  air  of  decent  civility. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  enter  into  the  details 


44  THE    REGICIDES. 

of  this  day's  grievous  intrusion  upon  the  sanctity 
of  New-Haven  housewifery.  Not  a  house,  not  a 
room,  not  a  cupboard  that  did  not  undergo  the 
scrutinizing  gaze  of  Messrs.  Kirk  and  Kellond. 
Wo  to  the  untidy  dame  who  had  sought  with  an 
outside  exhibition  of  neatness,  to  cover  the  de 
formity  of  her  interior  management,  for  now  was 
her  deception  manifest.  And  wo  to  the  notable 
matrons  whose  clean  and  quiet  dwellings  the 
feet  of  Messrs.  Kirk  and  Kellond  that  day  inva 
ded.  Not  a  chest  escaped  their  Vandal  touch  ; 
and  the  contents  of  trunks  and  closets  lay  spread 
on  the  floor  in  strange  confusion,  while  their  fair 
proprietors  in  mingled  dismay  and  wrath,  survey 
ed  the  scene.  But  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
a  confederacy  of  intelligent  females  was  to  be 
outwitted  by  a  couple  of  unassisted  strangers ; 
for,  though  the  magistrates  of  the  colony  had  re 
fused  to  furnish  further  concealment  of  the  regi 
cides,  the  helpmates  of  said  magistrates  in  the 
true  spirit  of  republicanism,  secretly  declared 
that  resolutions  which  they  had  no  share  in 
forming,  should  not  be  considered  as  binding 
upon  themselves.  The  embassy  of  our  worthy 
travellers  was  consequently  unsuccessful ;  and, 
as  our  history  informs  us,  they  departed  the  next 
morning  from  the  colony  threatening  the  wrath 
of  the  king  upon  the  guiltless  magistrates  ;  while 
the  matrons  of  New-Haven  rejoiced  in  secret  at 
this  triumph  of  their  skill. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  early  superstitions  of  New-England  were 
of  a  peculiar  nature.  Not  only  the  public  insti 
tutions  of  its  settlers,  bore  the -impress  of 'the  stern 
faith  they  had  adopted  as  their  ruling  principle, 
but  individual  character,  private  affections,  and 
popular  prejudices,  were  all  shaped  to  the  same 
unyielding  model ;  and  thus  in  the  development 
of  those  mysterious  emotions  of  supernatural 
dread  so  common  to  our  nature,  we  find  traces  of 
the  same  principle.  The  genii  of  oriental  fancy, 
the  malignant  spirits  of  German  forests,  the  wild 
fabric  of  Scottish  credulity  have  all  figured  on  the 
pages  of  romance ;  but  it  was  on  the  broad  shad 
ows  of  eternal  truth  that  the  weakness  of  human 
fear  had  here  fastened  its  illusions,  and  a  supersti 
tion  more  vast,  and  more  awful  hung  over  the 
glens  and  forests  of  New-England.  When  the 
maiden  trod  quickly,  on  the  lonely  path  at  twi 
light,  it  was  not  that  a  being  of  her  own  creative 
fancy  haunted  it.  Something  more  fearful  than 
the  vision  of  the  sportive  fancy  paled  her  cheek. 
The  object  of  her  dread  was  one  real  and  mighty 
being,  whose  power  extended  from  the  abodes  of 
unholy  spirits,  to  the  dwelling  places  of  earth, 
throwing  his  mysterious  and  sinful  influence  even 
around  the  inmost  recesses  of  her  own  heart. 
He  had  once  stood  first  in  the  ranks  of  seraphs, 


46  THE    REGICIDES. 

and  learned  wisdom  from  the  lips  of  the  Eternal ; 
mighty  too  he  was,  for  he  had  even  waged  war  in 
heaven ;  and  all  this  wisdom,  and  all  this  might, 
the  voice  of  inspiration  assured  her,  was  enlisted 
against  her  peace.  It  was  not  strange,  therefore, 
that  those  whom  the  puritans,  in  their  credulity, 
imagined  in  league  with  this  Prince  of  darkness, 
were  regarded  with  sensations  of  unmingled  hor 
ror.  And  though  this  superstition  had  not,  at  the 
date  of  this  narrative,  assumed  that  fearful  as 
pect  which  in  after  years  spread  such  dismay 
through  the  colonies,  it  was  still  openly  encoura 
ged  by  the  sanction  of  good  and  enlightened 
men. 

It  was  about  six  months  after  the  incidents  re 
corded  in  the  last  chapter,  that  a  strong  excite 
ment  of  this  description,  began  to  make  its  ap 
pearance  in  the  colony  of  New-Haven.  Tales  of 
fearful  import  were  circulated  through  the  vil 
lage,  strange  sights  and  unearthly  voices  had 
been  seen  and  heard  at  midnight,  and  a  secret 
and  indefinable  dread  thrilled  through  the  hearts 
of  those  whom  necessity  compelled  to  a  solitary 
walk  at  evening.  When  the  subtle  spirit  of  pop 
ular  superstition  is  once  aroused,  it  floats  not.  long 
in  unsubstantial  rumor ;  the  airy  nothing  soon 
finds  a  "local  habitation  and  a  name."  So  it  was 
in  the  present  instance.  The  mountain  which  rears 
its  head  about  two  miles  west  of  the  village,  was 
at  length  declared  a  favorite  haunt  of  the  unearth 
ly  visitant.  The  various  fearful  reports  began 
now  to  concentrate  on  one  fair  and  wandering 
spirit,  who  for  some  unknown  cause,  had  taken  up 
her  abode  amid  the  habitations  of  the  material 
world  ;  and  many  a  fresh  lip  grew  pale,  as  the 
d  escriptions  of  that  strange  and  beautiful  being 


THE    REGICIDES.  47 

were  repeated  everyday,  with  a  more  intense  in 
terest.  It  became,  at  last,  generally  reported  and 
believed,  that  just  as  the  white  mist  began  to 
break  away  from  the  rock,  a  female  form  of  ex 
quisite,  but  faded  beauty  might  be  seen  standing 
amid  the  wreathing  vapor,  and  gradually  vanish 
ing  as  it  slowly  curled  from  the  mountain.  Who 
this  fearful  stranger  might  be,  and  what  the  cause 
of  her  appearance,  few  dared  to  question  ;  though 
each  heart  cherished  its  own  secret  and  terrible 
suggestions.  Meanwhile,  witnesses  to  the  truth 
of  the  tale,  gradually  increased;  and  it  began 
ere  long  to  be  secretly  whispered,  that  the  lady 
of  the  mist  came  not  unsummoned  to  disturb 
their  peace,  that  there  were  those  among  them 
who  had  dared  to  make  a  league  with  death,  and 
a  covenant  with  the  power  of  darkness.  We 
grieve  to  add,  that  among  the  objects  on  whom 
these  horrid  suspicions  at  last  rested,  were  the 
orphan  nieces  of  Governor  Leet,  Margaret  Wei- 
don,  and  her  fair  young  sister. 

Mrs.  Mary  Wilmot  a  widowed  lady  of  hi^h 
respectability,  who  had  about  three  years  since" 
emigrated  from  England,  under  the  impulse  of 
religious  motives,  was  now  the  only  remaining 
sister  of  their  deceased  father.  Margaret  Wei- 
don  had  accompanied  her  across  the  Atlantic, 
and  with  her,  had  passed  a  large  proportion  of 
her  time  since  her  arrival  in  America  ;  but  the 
younger  sister  had  now  recently  for  the  first  time 
come  to  reside  beneath  the  roof  of  this  affection 
ate  relative.  Alice  had  only  a  few  months 
since  arrived  from  England  ;  and  as  it  was  gene 
rally  believed,  the  occasion  of  her  mother's  death, 
though  the  strange  and  obstinate  reserve  with 
which  Mrs.  Wilmot  and  Governor  Leet  had  re- 


48  THE    REGICIDES. 

pulsed  every  inquiry  upon  the  subject,  had  na 
turally  given  rise  to  many  curious  conjectures. 
There  was  much  too  in  the  appearance  of  the 
child  herself  to  deepen  their  interest.  Margaret 
was  pretty,  but  Alice  Weldon  was  beautiful — 
singularly  beautiful.  It  was  not  the  mere  grace 
of  form  and  feature,  nor  the  expression  of  infan 
tile  sweetness,  that  constituted  her  chief  charm. 
It  was  a  kind  of  gentle  melancholy  that  lingered 
always  amid  the  beauty  of  her  countenance, 
stealing  out  in  the  light  of  her  deep  blue  eyes, 
when  their  snowy  and  drooping  lids  suddenly 
lifted,  softening  the  dimples  of  her  gayest  smile, 
mellowing  the  tones  of  her  rich  voice  even  when 
it  trembled  with  laughter,  and  breathing  over 
the  whole  appearance  a  charm  as  indescribable 
as  facinating.  And  when  the  report  once  began 
to  circulate,  that  Margaret  Weldon  had  been 
seen  in  actual  conference  with  the  lady  of  the 
mist,  the  suspicions  that  attached  to  her  name, 
were  quickly  and  easily  communicated  to  that  of 
her  mysterious  little  sister. 

It  was  just  in  this  state  of  affairs  that  Henry 
Davenport,  who  now  resided  beneath  his  father's 
roof,  one  calm  night  in  June,  found  himself  sud 
denly  aroused  from  a  profound  slumber,  at  mid 
night.  The  chamber  in  which  he  slept,  was  at 
some  distance  from  the  sleeping  apartments  of 
the  family  ;  and  notwithstanding  his  usually  dar 
ing  disposition,  he  found  it  impossible  to  suppress 
a  strong  sensation  of  fear,  as  he  found  himself 
thus  singularly  awakened  without  any  visible 
cause,  and  gazing  earnestly  around  the  apartment. 
It  was  no  human  visitant  that  excited  his  appre 
hensions. 

The  mind  of  the  youth  had  become  tinctured 


THE   REGICIDES.  49 

\\ith  the  prevailing  superstition,  and  though  he 
gave  not  actual  credence  to  all  the  fearful  ru 
mors  to  which  he  listened,  there  was  something 
in  the  very  character  of  the  ideas  they  produced, 
well  suited  to  the  peculiarities  of  his  disposition; 
there  was  enjoyment  even  in  the  awe  and  horror 
they  excited.  It  was,  therefore,  with  a  feeling 
of  trembling  expectation,  that  he  now  surveyed 
the  objects  of  the  room.  It  was  small,  and  a 
bright  moonlight  streamed  through  the  thin  cur 
tain,  as  every  object  passed  in  quick  review  be 
fore  him,  until  his  eye  rested  on  a  shadowy  figure, 
half  concealed  in  the  darkness.  A  low  exclama 
tion  of  terror  burst  from  his  lips.  Visions  of  the 
Lady  of  the  Mist,  flitted  rapidly  across  his  mind  ; 
and  he  buried  his  face  in  the  bedclothes. 

"  Henry  Davenport,  is  it  you  ?"  said  a  low  voice, 
which  he  instantly  recognized  to  be  that  of  Mar 
garet  Weldon.  "  I  pray  your  pardon  for  disturb 
ing  your  repose.  I  had  thought  that  this  was 
your  sister's  apartment/' 

"And  what  would  you  of  Mary  at  this  late 
hour?"  replied  Henry,  who  was  now  hastily  re 
volving  in  his  mind  the  reports  concerning  her, 
and  his  voice  gathered  energy  ;  "  Margaret  Wel 
don,  what  would  you  ?" 

"  Speak  lower,  Henry,  and  I  will  tell  you," 
continued  the  same  voice,  and  the  boy  felt  a  chill 
at  his  heart,  for  her  light  footstep  was  now  heard 
approaching  the  bed.  Unwilling,  however,  to 
manifest  any  emotion,  he  slowly  uncovered  his 
face  and  perceived  the  object  of  his  terror,  gently 
parting  away  the  curtains. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  Henry,  at  this  singular 
visit;  it  was  indeed  intended  for  your  sister,  but 
now  I  reflect  upon  it,  I  am  sure  you  can  keep  the 

5 


50  THE  REGICIDES. 

secret  as  well,  and  do  my  errand  far  better. 
Henry  will  you  promise  not  to  betray  the  trust  I 
am  about  to  repose  in  you  ?" 

"  I  will  not  betray  you,  Margaret,  but," — and 
he  paused,  as  if  unwilling  to  express  his  mean 
ing. 

"I  understand  you,  Henry,"  continued  Marga 
ret,  "  you  do  not  desire  my  confidence  ;  but  surely 
you  are  not  the  foolish  and  timid  boy  to  fear  one 
like  me.  I  know  indeed  all  that  you  have  heard, 
and  was  about  to  show  my  confidence  in  your 
courage,  by  imposing  upon  you  the  very  task 
which  alone  has  procured  for  me  this  fearful  sus 
picion."  There  was  something  in  this  declara 
tion  which  kindled  at  once  the  proud  spirit  of  the 
youth. 

"  What  is  it,  Margaret?  If  there  is  nothing 
but  danger  in  the  errand,  I  will  not  hesitate." 

"Then  take  this,  Henry,"  resumed  the  young 
lady,  after  a  moment's  silence,  in  slow  impressive 
tones,  and  pointing  as  she  spoke  to  a  small  wicker 
basket  which  she  held  in  her  hand,  "  and  when 
the  first  ray  of  morning  appears,  carry  it  for  me 
to  the  haunted  rock.  Nay,  Henry,  do  not  be  thus 
daunted  with  a  name.  I  believe  you  a  daring 
and  fearless  boy,  or  I  had  never  trusted  you  with 
the  embassy.  There  is  a  large  and  moss  grown 
stone  which  lies  half  way  up  the  acclivity — you 
know  it — these  foolish  stories  have  made  it  but 
too  famous.  Well,  it  is  there,  Henry,  that  you 
must  deposit  your  burthen  ;  and  whatever  you 
find  on  that  stone  bring  back  to  me.  And  yet,  it 
would  not  be  well,"  she  added,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "  that  we  should  seem  to  communicate. 
No,  Henry,  you  may  place  it  on  the  bench  in  the 
garden,  and  every  morning,  that  is,  so  long  as  you 


THE    REGICIDES.  51 

will   perform  this  embarrassing   task,  the  basket 
shall  wait  for  you  there." 

"And  why?"  exclaimed  the  youth,  who  could 
not  yet  banish  from  his  mind  the  suspicion  of  su 
pernatural  agency.  "  Margaret,  for  whom  shall 
I  do  all  this?" 

"  For  me — for  my  sake,  Henry, — I  intreat  you, 
do  not  refuse  me.  I  have  pledged  myself  to  per 
form  this  task,  and  in  spite  of  danger  and  suspi 
cion  have  long  done  it — but  a  circumstance  has 
no\v  occurred  which  will  render  it  for  a  few  days, 
at  least,  improper,  nay,  impossible." 

"  And  whom  shall  I  see,"  continued  Henry,  not 
at  all  reassured  by  the  mysterious  language  of  the 
young  lady. 

"  No  one  that  will  harm  you,  Henry — the  only 
danger  is  in  discovery.  Curious  eyes  may  watch 
your  steps.  But  you  must  leave  the  village  by  a 
circuitous  path,  and  do  all  that  you  can  to  elude 
suspicion.  Henry,  I  must  go.  Will  you  do  this 
errand  ?" 

"7  will"  replied  the  youth,  in  a  voice  which 
seemed  as  though  his  whole  soul  had  been  sum 
moned  for  the  effort.  "  Margaret  Welclon,  I  will 
do  your  bidding — but  remember — if  you  are 
wiling  me  away  to  some  dark  and  unhol;  deed, 
let  the  sin  and  the  scathe  r<j*t  on  you." 
U  A  smile  flitted  over  the  features  of  the  fair  visi 
tant,  as,  with  all  the  energy  of  a  desperate  pur 
pose,  he  pronounced  the  reply  ;  and  then  turning 
with  a  light  and  noiseless  step,  'she  left  the  apart 
ment. 

But  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Henry,  at  once 
relapsed  into  that  comfortable  slumber  which  her 
entrance  had  disturbed.  A  succession  of  fearful 
reflections  crowded  rapidly  upon  his  mind.  The 


52  THE    REGICIDES. 

light  trains  of  association  were  all  kindled.  Every 
faint  dream,  or  half  remembered  apprehension  of 
evil,  every  supernatural  legend,  or  wild  tale  of 
witch  or  apparition,  from  the  long  forgotten  song 
of  the  nursery,  to  the  recent  reports  concerning 
the  Lady  of  the  Mist, — all  seemed  embodied,  and 
in  living  array,  before  him.  He  feared,  and  fan 
cied,  and  reasoned,  until  his  brain  grew  sick  with 
thought,  and  every  moment  the  cold  and  dewy 
hand  of  the  pale  lady  seemed  ready  to  press  his 
brow.  "I  will  go  to  my  father,"  he  at  length  ex 
claimed,  rising  nastily  from  his  pillow,  and  unable 
longer  to  endure  his  emotion.  "  It  may  not  be 
too  late  to  retract  this  dreadful  promise," — but 
the  fear  of  ridicule  at  once  arrested  his  purpose. 
The  moon  was  shining  clear  and  bright  through 
his  chamber,  every  object  wore  its  wonted  ap 
pearance,  and  though  his  eye  passed  carefully 
over  every  crevice  and  corner,  no  sights  of  horror 
presented  themselves.  His  head  sunk  again  on 
his  pillow,  and,  wearied  and  exhausted,  he  soo-n 
fell  into  a  disturbed  slumber. 

The  fearful  visit  of  Margaret  Weldon  was  now 
repeated,  with  all  the  aggravated  horrors  an  ex 
cited  imagination  could  furnish  ;  but  instead 
of  Margaret,  the  pale  lady  stood  beside  him, 
her  cold,  ghastly  countenance  peering  in 
through  the  folds  of  his  curtains,  and  command 
ing  him  to  follow.  A  resistless  influence  seemed 
to  compel  his  obedience,  and  while  yet  struggling 
with  its  power,  he  awoke. 

A  faint  streak  in  the  east  convinced  him  that  it 
was  the  break  of  day,  and  he  hastily  recalled  to 
his  mind  the  events  of  the  past  night.  But  the 
dominion  of  darkness  was  now  over,  and  though 
there  mingled  some  slight  apprehensions  of  evil 


THE    REGICIDES.  53 

with  the  proud  consciousness  of  the  trust  reposed 
in  him,  he  prepared,  without  a  moment's  hesita 
tion,  to  fulfil  his  promise. 

Perfect  stillness  reigned  throughout  the  village, 
as  he  threw  open  the  door  of  his  father's  dwelling. 
His  eye  glanced  instinctively  across  the  way,  up 
on  the  quiet  and  beautiful  little  dwelling  of  Mrs. 
Wihnot.  For  a  moment  he  fancied  he  saw  at  one 
of  the  upper  windows  the  outline  of  a  female 
figure,  but  the  fog  which  was  rolling  over  the  vil 
lage  prevented  any  minute  observations.  He  was 
anxious  also  to  avoid  the  scrutiny  of  any  curious 
spectators;  and  springing  over  a  low  hedge  that 
obstructed  his  way,  he  moved  slowly  across  a 
smooth  meadow.  The  grass  was  loaded  with  a 
thick  vapor,  and  the  sweet  breath  of  the  young 
clover  perfumed  the  air,  as  with  a  light  and  has 
ty  tread,  the  boy  moved  onward,  brushing  for 
himself  a  path  amid  the  wilderness  of  gems,  and 
crushing  at  every  step  the  beauty  of  some  bright 
blossom.  Now  and  then  his  eye  turned  anxiously 
upon  the  little  village  he  was  leaving. 

The  prospect  was  not  the  same  which  the  same 
situation  might  at  the  present  day  command- 
nay  you  might  now  look  in  vain  for  the  flowery 
meadow  itself — the  squares  of  the  city  have  long 
since  spoiled  its  loveliness.  The  jail,  the  church, 
and  the  school-house,  now  constituted  the  orna 
ments  of  the  public  green  ;  and  these,  with  a  few 
scattered  clusters  of  houses  were  all  that  then 
appeared  as  the  germ  of  that  beautiful  city  which 
now  yields  its  shade  to  thousands.  Nevertheless 
there  was  in  the  uniformly  neat  appearance  of 
these  dwellings,  a  slight  development  of  the  same 
principle  which  at  the  present  day  renders  New- 
Haven  an  object  of  admiration.  The  small  green 
5* 


54  THE    REGICIDES, 

enclosures  in  front  of  each,  surrounded  with  white 
palings  and  filled  with  clustering  roses,  the  luxu 
riant  woodbine  and  honeysuckle,  that  here  and 
there  shadowed  the  windows  with  their  rich  cur 
taining,  together  with  the  shaded  gravel  walks 
running  in  various  directions  through  the  village,, 
all  suificiently  evidenced  that  the  power  of  ap 
preciating  the  beautiful,  had  not  been  banished 
from  the  homes  of  the  Puritans. 

But  the  mind  of  Henry  Davenport  was  occu 
pied  with  far  more  interesting  reflections  than 
these,  as,  after  a  circuitous  route,  he  at  length 
found  himself  beyond  sight  of  the  village,  and 
rapidly  pursuing  his  way  to  the  haunted  rock. 
He  was  about  to  prove  the  truth  or  falsity  of  that 
strange  tale,  which  had  so  long  agitated  the  vil 
lage,  and  his  young  heart  throbbed  rapidly  as  he 
descried  the  object  of  his  destination,  towering 
bold  and  high  through  the  dense  atmosphere  that 
surrounded  it.  The  pale  moonlight,  meanwhile, 
had  quite  faded  in  the  beams  of  morning;  and  as 
he  drew  near  the  foot  of  the  rock,  the  broad  rays  of 
the  level  sun  darted  full  upon  it,  struggling  through 
the  floating  masses  of  vapor,  and  kindling  the 
whole  mountain  with  a  living  radiance. 

Here  our  young  hero  paused,  not  merely  for  the 
sake  of  the  momentary  rest,  which  the  protracted 
walk  might  certainly  have  excused,  but  for  the 
purpose  of  rally  ing  his  mental  forces  for  the  expect 
ed  encounter.  He  was  now  at  a  distance  from  the 
habitations  of  men,  and  a  few  dim  specks  around 
the  distant  spire  was  all  that  indicated  the  loca 
tion  of  the  village.  The  chirping  note  of  here 
and  there  a  solitary  bird,  came  swelling  from  the 
woods,  and  seemed  only  to  increase  the  sense  of 
his  loneliness,  while  the  recollection  of  the  spirit 


THE    REGICIDES.  53 

whose  precincts  he  was  about  to  invade,  rushed 
painfully  to  his  mind.  His  eye  glanced  at  the 
same  moment  upon  his  mysterious  burthen — what 
fearful  spells  might  it  not  contain,  what  magic  in 
fluence  might  it  not  exert  upon  its  bearer ;  and 
he  gazed  and  fancied,  until  Pandora's  box  itself 
would  scarce  have  seemed  a  more  dreadful  load  ; 
and  withal,  as  he  recalled  the  conversation  of  the 
preceding  night,  he  distinctly  remembered  thnt 
Margaret  had  failed  to  assure  him  that  he  should 
not  behold  the  object  of  his  terror. 

But  at  last  with  an  impulse  of  the  same  high 
spirit  which  had  first  induced  him  to  accept  the 
embassy,  he  clasped  his  ill-omened  burthen,  and 
began  manfully  to  scramble  up  the  rock.  We 
must  confess,  however,  that  his  glances  towards 
the  summit  were  "  few  and  far  between,"  it  was 
enough  for  him  that  he  descried  in  the  distance 
the  projecting  table  like  stone  on  which  he  was 
to  deposit  his  load,  and  he  cared  not  to  penetrate 
too  curiously  into  the  secrets  of  the  dense  fog 
which  still  wrapped  the  height  above.  He  was 
now  within  a  short  distance  of  the  stone,  when 
directing  his  eye  for  a  moment  upwards  it  be 
came  suddenly  fixed  by  a  fascination  as  strong 
and  dreadful  as  that  which  the  serpent  throws 
over  its  victim.  Was  it  the  vision  of  a  distem 
pered  fancy,  or  a  reality  ?  Be  this  as  it  might, 
he  now  surely  discovered,  descending  from  the 
cliff  above,  what  seemed  the  faint  outline  of  a 
human  figure.  Slowly  and  gradually,  it  became 
more  distinct  and  Henry  ere  long  recognized  the 
white  robe,  the  pale  and  beautiful  features  of  the 
lady  of  the  mist.  He  would  have  turned  and  fled 
for  life,  but  no  human  help  was  nigh — he  was  alone 
on  the  great  rock,  and  he  felt  that  it  would  be 


56  THE    REGICIDES. 

vain  to  seek  with  mortal  steps  to  escape  the 
grasp  of  the  spirit.  So  he  moved  on  with  a  kind 
of  desperate  energy,  his  eye  still  fixed  on  the  ad 
vancing  form  of  the  lady.  They  were  now  with 
in  a  few  yards  of  each  other,  and  seemed  about 
to  meet  just  at  the  haunted  stone. 

At  that  instant  the  mysterious  stranger  paused, 
her  bright  and  beautiful  eyes  rested  on  him  for  a 
moment,  and,  had  all  the  charms  and  spells  he 
had  dreaded,  been  concentrated  in  that  one 
glance,  the  change  produced  on  his  feelings 
could  not  have  been  more  instantaneous.  Fears 
and  doubts  were  all  forgotten  in  an  emotion  of 
unmingled  surprise.  There  was  something  in  his 
innermost  heart,  which  told  him  at  once  that 
that  soft  glance,  that  look  of  inexpressible  sweet 
ness,  he  had  often  met  ere  now,  where  or  how 
he  knew  not,  whether  in  dreams  or  visions,  but 
the  expression  was  as  familiar  as  his  own  name. 

After  regarding  him  for  a  moment,  the  lady 
turned  slowly  about,  and  by  the  path  she  had 
descended,  began  to  mount  the  acclivity.  Henry 
darted  forward  to  the  stone.  A  basket  like  the 
one  he  bore,  already  occupied  it.  The  exchange 
was  quickly  made;  and  turning  his  way  down 
ward  he  soon  found  himself  standing  safe  at  the 
foot  of  the  haunted  rock. 

When  Henry  Davenport,  after  depositing  the 
basket  in  the  appointed  place,  arrived  again  at 
his  father's  dwelling,  he  learned  that  the  whole 
village  had  been  thrown  into  a  state  of  strong 
excitement,  by  the  reappearance  of  the  identical 
travellers  whose  adventures  have  hitherto  claimed 
so  large  a  share  of  our  attention.  It  was  rumor 
ed  that  they  had  arrived  the  evening  previous, 
having  pushed  their  journey  only  as  far  south  as 


THE    REGICIDES.  57 

the  Dutch  colony  at  Manhattan,  and  were  now 
prepared  to  institute  a  more  thorough  search, 
being  convinced  that  the  objects  of  their  pursuit 
were  yet  concealed  in  the  colony  of  New-Haven. 

Early  that  day,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport  found 
himself  favored  with  a  second  visit  from  his  Ma 
jesty's  commissioners,  Messrs  Kirk  and  Kellond. 
During  their  interview,  the  amiable  family,  of  the 
clergymen,  were  grieved  to  perceive  that  inter 
course  with  their  southern  neighbors,  had  by  no 
means  improved  the  manners  of  their  guests ; 
and  though  the  good  minister  himself  manifested 
all  possible  forbearance,  the  conversation  at  last 
ended  with  bitter  and  taunting  words  on  the  part 
of  the  strangers.  They  were  however  assured 
that  the  answer  given  them  on  the  occasion  of 
their  former  visit,  must  be  considered  d(  cisive 
— no  assistance  could  be  furnished  them  by  the 
magistrates  of  the  colony,  though  all  authorized 
commissioners  were  of  course  allowed  full  liberty 
of  searching  their  dwellings.  They  were  inform 
ed,  however,  that  if  the  judges  had,  as  they  as 
serted,  secreted  themselves  in  the  colony,  they 
were  bound  to  exercise  their  own  wits  according 
to  the  tenor  of  their  directions,  in  ascertaining  the 
place  of  concealment. 

The  ensuing  day  it  was  ascertained  that  the 
commissioners  had  taken  lodgings  for  a  fortnight 
at  the  village  inn.  And  from  that  place  daily  ir 
ruptions  were  made,  into  various  parts  of  the 
town  and  its  vicinity,  much  to  the  annoyance  of 
the  worthy  inhabitants. 

Meanwhile  Henry  Davenport  continued  his 
visits  to  the  seat  of  the  mountain  spirit :  and  eve 
ry  morning  with  increasing  fortitude  encountered 
the  fearful  vision  of  the  white  robed  lady.  After 


58  THE    REGICIDES. 

the  first  morning,  however,  she  had  never  ap 
proached  so  near  as  before,  standing  at  such  a 
distance,  while  he  deposited  his  burthen,  that 
the  dim  outline  of  her  figure  alone  was  discerni 
ble.  But  as  he  became  familiar  with  the  sight, 
and  every  morning  found  himself  returning  from 
his  ramble  alive  and  unharmed,  curiosity  began 
to  obtain  the  ascendancy  over  his  fears,  and  he 
cherished  an  irresistible  desire  to  learn  something 
more  concerning  the  lady  of  the  mist.  A  circum 
stance  soon  occurred  which  gave  a  kroner  edge 
to  this  feeling,  removing,  at  the  same  time,  all 
his  most  painful  conjectures. 

It  was  the  fourth  evening  after  his  singular  in 
terview  with  Miss  Weldon,  that  Henry  Davenport 
was  dispatched  to  Mrs.  Wilmot,  as  the  bearer 
of  u  letter  which  had  that  day  been  received 
from  Boston,  inclosed  in  a  pacquet  to  his  father. 
He  paused  a  moment  at  the  gate.  A  rich  flow 
of  music  came  swelling  from  the  open  window 
of  the  little  parlor  ;  there  was  a  mingling  of  sweet 
voices  within,  and  Henry  lingered  awhile  at  the 
door,  unnoticed,  and  unwilling  to  disturb  the  sa 
cred  melody  of  their  evening  hymn. 

Mrs.  Wilmot  was  seated  opposite  the  door,  and 
Miss  Weldon  beside  her,  while  the  lovely  little 
Alice  reclined  at  her  feet,  leaning  her  fair  young 
head  with  all  its  beautiful  and  clustering  curls, 
upon  her  sister  and  a  vivid  beam  of  moonlight 
from  the  window  played  full  upon  her  counte 
nance.  There  was  a  pallid  cast  to  her  usually 
blooming  features,  and  with  an  emotion  too 
powerful  for  description,  Henry  at  that  moment 
discovered  a  close  and  striking  resemblance  to 
the  strange  face  that  gazed  on  him  so  fearfully, 
through  the  mist  of  the  haunted  rock.  The  fore- 


THE    REGICIDES.  59 

head,  the  lip,  the  soft  melancholy  expression 
which  had  seemed  so  strangely  familiar  in  the 
Lady  of  the  Mist,  were  all  in  a  moment  recognized. 
The  agitation  of  this  discovery,  had  absorbed 
every  faculty  of  the  astonished  youth,  and  when 
at  length  amid  a  pause  of  the  deep  melody,  the 
eyes  of  the  interesting  group  were  directed  to 
wards  him,  his  confusion  and  embarrassment 
were  but  too  evident. 

"  I  have  a  letter  for  Margaret,"  he  at  length  ar 
ticulated,  suddenly  recollecting  his  errand  as  he 
advanced  to  the  sofa. 

"  And  whence  comes  it,"  said  Mrs.  Wilmot, 
as  the  young  lady  seized  it  with  avidity,  and, 
breaking  the  seal,  glanced  her  eye  hastily  over  its 
contents. 

"  From  Boston,"  replied  Miss  Weldon  in  a  low 
voice,  her  eye  falling  again  instantly  on  the  un 
read  page  ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  emotion, 
Henry  could  not  but  perceive,  that  the  tidings  of 
which  he  had  been  the  unconcious  bearer  were 
of  a  peculiarly  interesting  nature.  The  cheek  of 
the  young  lady  became  flushed,  as  she  perused 
the  letter,  and  her  countenance  exhibited  marks 
of  strong  emotion,  whether  of  joy  or  sorrow  he 
knew  not.  Indeed  he  was  now  completely  oc 
cupied  with  a  plan  he  had  formed  since  his  en 
trance,  and  as  soon  as  the  affability  of  Mrs.  Wil 
mot  would  permit,  he  hastened  home  to  ma 
ture  his  projects. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


WHEN  Henry  Davenport,  the  next  morning, 
again  set  out  on  his  excursion,  it  was  with  a  set 
tled  determination,  at  all  hazards,  to  pierce  the 
singular  mystery  which  enveloped  his  intercourse 
with  the  Lady  of  the  Mist. 

This  resolution  was  not  lightly  adopted.  He 
had  passed  hours  of  the  night  in  revolving  within 
himself  its  expediency,  and  had  at  length  conclu 
ded,  that  whether  she  vanished  in  thin  air,  or  float 
ed  away  on  the  morning  mist,  or  dropped  from  his 
sight  amid  the  depths  of  the  mountain,  he  would 
surely  know  from  whence  she  came.  For  this  pur 
pose,  he  had  arisen  half  an  hour  earlier  than  the 
usual  time.  At  first  a  clear  starlight  was  all  that 
illumined  his  path  ;  and  when  at  length  he  stood 
at  the  foot  of  the  rock,  the  morning  only  glim 
mered  in  the  east. 

Full  of  his  determination,  after  placing  the 
basket  upon  the  stone  he  stretched  himself 
quietly  beside  it  and  directing  his  eyes  above, 
began,  as  well  as  the  darkness  would  permit,  to 
watch  the  approach  of  the  mountain  lady.  The 
beams  of  the  morning  were  rapidly  gathering  on 
the  cliff,  when  the  boy  at  length  discovered  what 
seemed  a  human  form,  winding  around  the  re 
mote  extremity  of  the  rock,  and  he  was  not  long 
in  identifying  it  with  the  object  of  his  curiosity. 


THE    REGICIDES.  61 

A  projecting  ledge  formed  the  path  by  which  she 
approached ;  and  Henry  shuddered  as  he  beheld 
her  gliding  lightly  over  the  dizzy  height,  appa 
rently  without  fear  or  impediment. 

"  Ah,  she  pauses  not  for  cliff  or  break — the  thin 
air  is  firm  enough  for  that  light  form — mortal  be 
ings  tread  not  with  such  a  step" — he  muttered,  as 
the  object  of  his  gaze  drew  nearer.  He  waited 
only  to  be  well  convinced  that  the  form  he  now 
descried  was  indeed  what  he  had  imagined,  and 
then,  turning  hastily  about,  and  following  a  path 
parallel  to  the  one  she  trod,  proceeded  as  swiftly 
as  the  nature  of  the  footing  would  allow,  in  the 
very  direction  from  which  she  had  just  advanced. 
It  was  only  by  clinging  to  the  shrubs  which  grew 
in  the  clefts  of  the  stony  surface,  that  he  was  en 
abled  to  maintain  his  ground.  Now  and  then, 
lie  paused  to  recover  breath,  casting  too,  occa 
sionally,  a  longing  glance  at  the  little  village 
whose  blue  smokes  were  just  beginning  to  curl  in 
the  atmosphere.  After  persevering  Tor  some  time 
in  this  fatiguing  exercise,  he  paused  a  moment  to 
watch  for  the  reappearance  of  the  mysterious 
stranger.  He  waited  not  long  in  vain.  The  light 
form  he  had  so  often  descried  in  the  distance,  in 
a  few  minutes  more,  again  became  visible,  tread 
ing  with  the  same  fearless  rapidity  along  her  airy 
path.  He  gazed  as  for  life — still  she  moved  on 
ward  and  his  aching  eye  followed  her  with  perse 
vering  earnestness. 

At  length  near  a  formless  pile  of  huge  and  rug 
ged  rocks  that  seemed  as  if  thrown  together  by 
some  primeval  convulsion  of  nature,  she  paused 
and  as  she  turned  full  around,  Henry  perceived 
that  she  bore  in  her  hand  the  basket  he  had  so 
recently  deposited  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock. 
6 


62  THE    REGICIDES. 

At  that  moment,  there  appeared  standing  on  the 
cliff  beside  her,  a  dark  and  lofty  figure,  and  the 
next,  the  cliff  and  the  nodding  shrubs  werekall  that 
remained.  It  was  in  vain  that  Henry  wiped  the 
mist  from  his  eyes,  and  gazed  and  gazed  again — 
the  objects  they  had  before  rested  on  were  gone, 
not  a  trace  of  them  remained. 

The  spot  from  which  they  had  thus  mysteri 
ously  vanished,  was  at  some  distance  above  the 
point  where  he  stood ;  and,  with  a  determination 
to  examine  it  more  closely,  he  began  to  climb 
the  sides  of  the  rock  by  means  of  the  strong 
bushes  which  every  where  presented  themselves. 
As  he  continued  to  ascend,  his  eye  still  fixed 
on  the  mysterious  point  where  he  had  last  be 
held  the  lady  and  her  companion,  he  sudden 
ly  perceived,  to  his  inexpressible  relief,  a  small 
opening  among  the  rocks,  which  the  shadow 
ing  bushes  had  hitherto  concealed.  To  be  at 
once  relieved  from  the  dreadful  certainty  that 
the  being  with  whom  he  had  been  thus  inti 
mately  connected,  was  only  a  supernatural  illu 
sion,  certainly  afforded  a  strong  satisfaction  to 
his  excited  mind.  The  cave  was  sufficiently 
large  to  contain  human  beings,  and  he  doubted 
not  that  those  on  whom  his  eyes  had  a  few  mo 
ments  before  rested,  were  now  concealed  within 
its  walls.  Here  the  youth  paused  to  consider  his 
situation,  and  seating  himself  on  a  fragment  of 
rock,  wiped  away  the  heavy  sweat  which  the  fear 
and  toil  had  gathered  on  his  young  forehead. 

Far  below  lay  stretched  in  the  distance,  the 
clear  waters  of  the  sound,  a  calm  sea  of  liquid 
brightness,  rolling  and  glittering  in  the  light  of 
morning,  and  winding  far  onward  in  its  curved 
shores  of  green,  till  it  seemed  in  the  long  perspec- 


THE    REGICIDES.  63 

live  a  faint  blue  stream,  and  at  last  a  fading  speck 
on  the  distant  horizon ;  while  all  before  and 
around  lay  abroad  magnificent  prospect  of  hill 
and  dale,  pastures  and  meadows  and  waving  wood 
lands,  all  swelling  in  the  rich  luxuriance  of  June, 
and  glorious  in  the  rising  sunshine.  The  boy  felt 
his  young  heart  revive,  as  the  fre-h  breeze  came 
up  from  below,  kissing  his  brow  and  burning 
cheek ;  he  could  not  believe  that  in  the  sight  of 
so  much  purity  and  loveliness,  the  unholy  spirits 
he  feared  would  ever  have  chosen  their  residence  ; 
and  he  felt  his  courage  renewed  and  his  heart 
strengthened  to  continue  the  pursuit. 

But  the  promise  of  secresy  which  Margaret  had 
extorted  from  him,  was  not  to  be  violated ;  and 
though  he  cast  many  a  wishful  glance  upon  the 
entrance  of  the  cavern,  the  recollection  of  the 
time  which  must  have  elapsed  since  he  left  the 
village,  at  once  checked  his  purpose.  To  attempt 
any  further  investigation  on  the  present  occasion, 
might  draw  upon  him  many  curious  inquiries,  and 
perhaps  discover  the  secret  of  his  morning  ram 
bles.  At  that  moment  the  sound  of  the  distant 
bell  came  faintly  through  the  distance,  and  though 
broken  and  scattered  by  the  woods  and  rocks 
which  intervened,  he  soon  ascertained  that  it  was 
tolling  the  hour  of  seven.  Without  further  hesi 
tation,  therefore  he  descended  from  the  rock,  and 
proceeded  with  all  speed  on  the  road  to  the  vil 
lage. 


CHAPTER  V. 


DURING  all  the  avocations  of  the  ensuing  day, 
the  strange  cavern  of  the  rock  occupied  a  pre 
eminent  place  in  the  mind  of  Henry  Davenport. 
Whether  he  wrote,  or  played,  or  studied,  whether 
his  eye  rested  on  the  solemn  visage  of  the  peda 
gogue,  or  the  laughing  faces  of  his  school  fellows, 
or  the  beloved  and  familiar  countenances  of  his 
own  household,  one  single  absorbing  idea  filled 
his  mind.  It  was  the  cave — the  high  lone  cave 
of  the  haunted  rock,  which  excluded  every  other 
object  from  the  vision  of  his  "  mind's  eye." 

A  singular  report,  which  though  at  first  faint 
ly  whispered,  was  now  every  where  gathering 
strength  in  its  march  through  the  village,  at 
length  arrested  his  attention.  It  was  rumored 
that  the  Rev.  Samuel  Russel  had  been  recently 
chosen  the  pastor  of  a  small  church,  in  a  beauti 
ful  village  of  the  Massachusetts  Colony,  and  that, 
on  the  ensuing  Thursday,  Margaret  Weldon 
would  accompany  him  thither  as  his  bride. 
But  the  strong  interest  which  this  communica 
tion  at  first  excited,  was  soon  forgotten  in  the 
higher  interest  of  his  intended  excursion  to  the 
mountain. 

The  sun  was  about  an  hour  above  the  horizon, 
and  its  clear  light  was  playing  full  upon  the  wes 
tern  side  of  the  rock,  when  Henry  again  found 


THE    REGICIDES.  05 

himself  within  sight  of  the  entrance  to  the  cave. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  his  love  for  the  wild 
and  romantic,  had  as  yet  entirely  subdued  the  awe 
which  his  possible  vicinity  to  the  dwelling  of 
some  unearthly  being  was  calculated  to  excite, 
indeed,  as  he  drew  nearer  the  spot,  his  move 
ments  became  every  moment  slower,  and  he  often 
paused  hesitating  and  afraid  to  proceed.  One 
effort  more,  and  he  would  stand  before  the  cave. 
He  looked  for  a  moment  downward.  The  idea 
of  being  hurled  from  that  dizzy  height,  as  the 
punishment  of  his  temerity,  rushed  suddenly  and 
painfully  to  his  mind.  But  it  was  too  late  to  re 
treat,  and  the  next  moment  found  him  at  the  en 
trance  of  the  cave,  gazing  fearfully  within. 

Notwithstanding  the  strong  yellow  sunlight  that 
now  beamed  through  the  opening,  the  room  with 
in  was  only  in  part  illuminated.  The  walls  of 
the  cave,  were  here  and  there  hollowed  into 
deep  recesses  which  partially  excluded  its  beams. 
Various  articles  of  rude  furniture  presented  them 
selves,  but  the  eye  of  Henry,  unattracted  by 
these,  wandered  onward  to  a  low  moss  couch, 
resting  at  last  with  eager  curiosity  upon  the 
figure  of  a  venerable  stranger  wrapped  in  a,  mili 
tary  cloak  and  reposing  quietly  upon  it.  He 
was  asleep,  and  as  Henry  soon  ascertained,  the 
only  occupant  of  this  rude  apartment:  The  self 
same  basket  which  Henry  had  so  often  trans 
ported  to  the  rock,  stood  on  a  small  table  be 
side  him,  and  near  it  a  cup  containing  a  few  deli 
cate  wild  flowers.  He  gazed,  for  a  moment  ear 
nestly  around  him,  and  then  with  a  slow  and 
noiseless  tread  approached  the  couch  of  the  mys 
terious  sleeper. 

His  face  was  uncovered,  and  a  feeling  of  deep 
6* 


66  THE    REGICIDES. 

awe  stole  over  the  ardent  spirit  of  the  youth,  as 
he  gazed  on  the  chastened  sorrowful  expression 
of  that  noble  countenance.  Age  and  sorrow  had 
marked  his  forehead  with  wrinkles,  and  silvered 
the  few  thin  locks  which  lay  on  his  temples,  and 
yet,  in  every  line  of  those  high  features,  there 
gleamed  a  dignity,  a  grandeur  of  soul,  which 
Henry  had  often  dreamed  of  in  his  high-wrought 
fancies  of  Grecian  and  Roman  heroes  and  of  He 
brew  kings  and  warriors,  but  which,  till  this  mo 
ment,  he  had  never  witnessed. 

A  sound  like  that  of  approaching  footsteps 
among  the  loose  stones  of  the  rock  at  length 
aroused  him  from  his  reverie.  Henry  gazed  fear 
fully  around  him  ;  there  was  no  retreat.  A  wide 
plank  which  had  evidently  been  used  for  the  pur 
pose  of  guarding  the  entrance,  now  reclined  in 
a  sloping  direction  against  the  wall.  It  was  the 
only  possible  concealment ;  and  he  had  glided 
behind  it,  just  as  a  tall  and  dark  shadow  fell  on 
the  floor  of  the  cave.  The  next  moment,  a  state 
ly  step  echoed  within,  and  Henry  ere  long  ven 
tured  to  look  from  his  concealment.  Another 
stranger,  comparatively  young,  of  lofty  mien  and 
countenance,  had  entered  this  strange  dwelling. 
His  head  bent  thoughtfully  down,  and  there  was 
something  in  the  restless  flashing  of  his  eye, 
which  conveyed  the  idea  of  perplexity  and 
trouble. 

The  sleeping  stranger  was  soon  aroused,  and, 
rising  from  his  couch,  he  slowly  approached  the 
entrance  of  the  cave. 

"  The  sun  is  almost  down,"  he  said,  turning 
anxi  usly  to  his  companion.  "  Saw  you  nothing 
of  h  r?" 

"  othing,  sir,"  replied  the  other  in  a  melan- 
chol  '  ne.  "That  I  have  waited  for  her  com- 


THE    REGICIDES.  67 

ing,  is  enough  of  itself  to  prevent  it.  There  is  a 
blight  on  all  my  hopes  and  wishes,  on  the  very 
lightest  of  them ;  and  there  was  thai  in  the  look 
and  tone  of  the  speaker,  which  showed  that  those 
bitter  words  were  wrung  from  the  innermost 
depths  of  a  wounded  spirit. 

At  that  moment,  the  clear  and  silvery  tones  of 
the  old  man,  fell  on  the  ear  of  Henry,  and  he  per 
ceived  that  he  had  seated  himself  by  the  table 
with  an  open  book  before  him.  His  voice  was 
singularly  melodious,  and  the  effect  of  the  holy 
and  beautiful  words,  thus  solemnly  repeated,  was 
striking,  and  intensely  interesting. 

"  These  are  they  which  came  out  of  great 
tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes,  and 
made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb. 
Therefore  are  they  before  the  throne  of  God  and 
serve  him  day  and  night  in  his  temple.  And  he 
that  sitteth  on  the  throne  shall  dwell  among  them. 
They  shall  hunger  no  more;  neither  thirst  any 
more ;  neither  shall  the  sun  light  on  them,  nor 
any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst 
of  the  throne,  shall  feed  them,  and  lead  them  to 
living  fountains  of  water  ;  and  God  shall  wipe 
away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

He  closed  the  book  and  there  was  a  momen 
tary  silence,  interrupted  only  by  the  continued 
tread  of  the  other.  "  Few  indeed,  my  son,"  con 
tinued  the  old  man,  "  few  and  evil  are  the  days 
of  our  pilgrimage  on  earth ;  but  let  us  not  waste 
these  blessed  trials,  in  bitter  and  vain  repinings. 
Rather  praise  Him,  William,  that  he  hath  counted 
us  worthy  to  suffer  for  his  name's  sake.  I  know, 
my  son,  that  proud  and  restless  spirit  of  thine, 
will  sometimes  mount  in  spite  of  thy  better  reas 
on  ;  but  oh !  let  it  not  rise  in  murmurs  against 
the  Lord  that  begot  thee." 


68  THE    REGfClDES. 

"  Heaven  will  forgive  my  crime,"  exclaimed 
the  other,  impatiently,  "  there  is  a  boundary  to 
mortal  endurance;  and  I  am  weary — nay  I  am 
sick — very  soul  sick  of  hopes  and  exertions. 
My  father,  life  may  be  dear  to  you — to  me  it  is 
a  weariness.  I  will  give  up  the  desperate  strug 
gle,  and  go  forth  and  die  the  death  which  heaven 
hath  doomed  me." 

"$j" And  how  hath  it  been  doomed  to  you?  My 
son,  your  soul  is  blinded  with  a  vain  and  foolish 
sophistry.  Because  the  edict  of  His  weak  and 
foolish  prince,  hath  said  that  we  shall  die,  hath 
Heaven  doomed  our  death  ?  And  would  you  give 
up  life,  and  the  service  of  God  on  earth,  because  it 
is  a  weariness?  Would  you  give  up  the  conflict, 
because  your  soul  is  sick  ?  No,  my  son,  God  hath 
not  yet  summoned  us  to  our  long  rest — we  have 
not  yet  overcome,  that  we  should  be  set  as  pil 
lars  in  the  temple  above.  Patience  hath  not  yet 
had  its  perfect  work,  and  long  years  of  sorrow  and 
pain,  may  yet  be  in  our  path  to  heaven." 

"  But  you  do  not  consider,  sir,"  rejoined  the 
other,  "  that  we  are  perhaps  drawing  upon  this 
colony  a  cup  of  wrath,  which  the  offering  of  our 
blood  might  avert.  Shall  we  look  tamely  on, 
and  behold  the  wild  beast  out  of  the  word  de 
stroying  a  vine  of  the  Lord's  own  planting,  for 
the  sake  of  the  inglorious  shelter  it  might  yield 
us?  Heaven  forbid." 

"  But  are  you  not  wrong?"  continued  the  elder. 
"The  magistrates  of  the  colony  have  refused  to 
furnish  any  concealment ;  and  the  kindness  of  a 
private  individual,  even  if  discovered,  would  never 
bring  ruin  upon  this  people.  And,  William,"  he 
went  on  in  a  lower  voice,  while  his  tone  trembled 
slightly,  "  would  you  leave  your  wife  a  widow, 


THE    REGICIDES.  GO 

and  your  offspring  fatherless,  because  you  dared 
not  endure  the  suffering  that  joyfully  and  un- 
murmuringly  she  has  shared  with  you  ?" 

A  low  groan  was  the  only  reply.  "  William," 
continued  the  old  man  burying  his  face  in  his 
hands,  "can  you  look  on  our  noble  hearted  Is 
abella,  and  say  that  life  is  a  weariness?  Would 
you  leave  her  alone  in  her  sorrows,  with  none 
to  sooth  her  amid  the  blight  that  has  darkened 
all  her  young  dreams ;  when  she  hath  soothed 
and  loved  us  so  tenderly,  and  followed  us  into 
exile,  drinking  unmurmuringly  of  every  bitter 
cup  which  we  have  tasted,  following  us  into  the 
dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,  that  she  might 
brighten  them  with  her  smiles,  and  varying  the 
darkness  of  our  destiny  with  an  affection  as  in 
tense  and  devoted,  nay  a  thousand  times  more  so, 
than  any  thing  we  ever  dreamed  of  in  the  day 
of  our  affluence.  William,  is  there  nothing  in 
love  like  this,  to  make  life  worth  living  for  ;  or 
is  it  because  I  am  a  doting  father,  that  the  sight 
fo  such  devotedness  doth  seem  to  breath  around 
this  faded  earth  a  kind  of  living  fragrance  ?" 

"  Make  me  not  mad  with  my  sufferings,"  re 
plied  the  other.  "  1  tell  you  my  heart  strings 
are  ready  to  burst,  you  must  not  touch  them  wan 
tonly.  My  father,  if  I  had  never  loved  our  Isa 
bella,  or  even  if  had  loved  her  only  with  such 
love  as  yours,  I  would  endure  all  suffering  cheer 
fully  and  joyfully  to  the  end,  if  so  I  could  in  any 
way  soothe  or  comfort  her.  But  to  behold  the 
noble  being  that  I  wooed  and  won  amid  halls  of 
wealth  wasting,  and  watching,  and  toiling  away 
her  bright  existence ;  and  every  day  to  behold 
another  and  another  shade  fading  from  her  cheek, 
and  every  hour  that  light  and  beautiful  form  ri- 


70  THE    REGICIDES. 

pening  for  the  tomb — and  all  for  me  I  She 
might  have  been  living  in  some  fair  home  in  her 
native  land  with  as  fresh  a  bloom  as  when  I  gath 
ered  her  to  adorn  my  own  dark  destiny.  If  she 
would  but  weep  and  mourn  over  her  altered 
fate,  I  would  nerve  my  soul  and  bear  it — but 
she  smiles,  and  smiles  on,  when  I  know  her  heart 
is  bursting.  O  I  would  rather  die  a  thousand 
deaths,  than  see  her  thus  blighted  and  withering, 
because  I  have  loved  her,"  in  spite  of  his  manli 
ness  the  cheek  of  the  noble  stranger  was  wet  with 
tears. 

A  light  step  was  heard  without  the  cavern  and 
Henry  Davenport  felt  his  heart  throbbing  so  vio 
lently  he  almost  feared  it  would  discover  his  pres 
ence,  as  a  slender  female  figure  glided  by  the 
place  of  his  concealment.  A  dark  bonnet  and 
mantle  at  first  prevented  his  anxious  gaze — but 
these  were  soon  thrown  off  arid  Henry  at  once 
beheld  without  doubt  or  disguise,  the  pale  white 
robed  lady  of  the  mist  the  wife  and  daughter  of 
the  exiled  regicides — the  good,  noble,  the  beauti 
ful  Isabella  Goffe. 

The  sun  was  just  setting  as  she  entered  the 
cave,  and  its  deep  glow  threw  a  kind  of  mellow 
tint  around  the  forward  features  of  the  lady,  so 
that  a  faint  bloom  lingered  on  the  cheek  that  had 
seemed  so  fearfully  pale  amid  the  mists  of  the 
morning.  She  bore  in  her  hand  a  boquet  of  wild 
blossoms  as  with  a  light  and  languid  tread  she 
advanced  towards  the  bench  on  which  the  elder 
of  the  strangers  reclined. 

"  Isabella,  my  daughter  you  have  been  absent 
long,"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  as  she  reclined 
herself  on  the  stone  and  threw  her  arm  kindly 
around  him.  "  Hath  any  evil  befallen  you,  my 


THE    REGICIDES.  71 

daughter,"  he  continued  looking  earnestly  and 
sorrowfully  on  her  countenance. 

"  I  have  seen,"  replied  the  lady,  in  a  voice 
whose  clear  and  sweet  tones  sent  a  sudden  thrill 
through  the  heart  of  Henry,  "  I  have  seen  tho 
cruel  and  blood-thirsty  men  who  watch  our  steps, 
and  heard  them  declare  that  they  would  search 
every  wood  and  rock  and  cave  ere  they  gave  up 
the  pursuit.  This  rude  dwelling  will  not  long 
be  ours.  We  must  seek  some  other  home  if  we 
would  not  perish." 

"  And  where,"  rejoined  he  whom  Henry  now 
know  to  be  Goffe,  "  if  the  dens  and  caves  of  the 
mountain  are  not  ours,  where  on  earth  have  we 
a  dwelling  place  ?  My  father,  my  lovely  Isabella," 
he  added,  slowly  approaching,  and  seating  him 
self  beside  them,  "  the  time  has  surely  come  for 
us  to  die,  aud  why  should  we  any  longer  resist 
the  will  of  Heaven.  Let  us  go  boldly  forth,  and 
yield  up  this  load  of  bitterness."  There  was  a 
short  and  breathless  silence. 

"  My  son,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  I  have  read 
of  a  higher  and  better  being  than  ourselves,  who 
once  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head.  It  is  enough 
for  the  disciple  that  he  be  as  his  master  and  the 
servant  as  his  Lord." 

"William,  dear  William,"  repeated  the  lady, 
as  she  parted  the  dark  locks  away  from  his  high 
pale  brow,  and  gazed  wistfully  on  his  features, 
"  do  not  grieve  so  bitterly.  In  our  father's  house 
there  are  many  mansions,  and  I  doubt  not  that  we 
shall  ere  long  share  their  blessedness.  I  know," 
she  added  in  gentle  and  soothing  tones,  "  that 
your  lot  has  been  a  bitter  one.  I  will  not  speak 
of  mine.  It  would  have  been  happy,  happy  be 
yond  all  comparison,  could  I  have  soothed  the 


72  THE    REGICIDES. 

anguish  of  yours,  or  lightened  one  sorrow  from 
my  father's  heart.  But  one  effort  more  remains 
for  me.  And  yet,"  she  added,  her  eye  glancing 
for  a  moment  around  the  cave,  "  it  is  a  bitter 
thing  to  leave  you  thus  amid  perils  and  death." 

"What  mean  you,  Isabella?"  exclaimed  the 
old  man,  while  the  husband  gazed  earnestly  up 
on  her.  "  Would  you  take  away  the  only  earthly 
joy  that  Heaven  has  left  us  ?  Isabella,  did  I  hear 
you  aright  ?" 

"  Yes,  father,  I  must  leave  you,  I  am  going 
over  the  waters  back  to  my  native  land.  I  will 
no  longer  waste  my  days  in  vain  repinings  while 
a  chance  of  happiness  remains  untried.  The 
king's  heart  is  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord ;  and  he 
can  turn  it  as  the  nvers  of  water  are  turned.  I 
will  kneel  at  the  foot  of  his  throne,  and  weary 
him  with  tears  and  prayers  till  he  grants  me  your 
pardon.  Nay,  William,  do  not  urge  me.  I  have 
made  my  resolution,  and  must  and  will  fulfil  it. 
Two  days  from  this,  I  sail  for  England.  Heaven 
grant,  that  if  I  see  your  faces  again  on  earth,  it 
may  be  in  peace."  Her  voice  trembled,  she 
paused,  and  leaned  her  pale  cheek  upon  his 
shoulder,  while  audible  sobs  interrupted  the 
stillness. 

Meanwhile  Henry  Davenport  had  listened  in 
painful  suspense  to  this  singular  conversation, 
dreading  every  moment  lest  some  wandering 
glance  should  detect  the  place  of  his  conceal 
ment.  As  he  saw  that  the  sunset  glow  was  fast 
fading  from  the  cavern,  he  trembled  lest  his  con 
tinued  absence  should  excite  the  alarm  of  tho 
family,  and  thus  discover  the  retreat  of  the  exiles. 
The  present  moment  seemed  the  most  favorable 
for  effecting  an  unnoticed  retreat;  for  the  in- 


THE    REGICIDES.  73 

mates  of  the  cave  were,  evidently,  completely 
absorbed  in  their  own  bitter  emotions.  There 
was  only  a  step  from  his  concealment,  to  the  en 
trance  ;  and  with  a  suppressed  breath  the  boy  at 
length  stole  out  unregarded,  joyfully  remember 
ing,  as  he  glanced  once  more  upon  the  clear 
heaven,  that  instead  of  ministering  to  the  spirits 
of  evil,  he  had  unconsciously  relieved  the  wants 
of  those  devoted  exiles. 

Animated  with  this  idea,  he  was  the  next  morn 
ing  setting  out  on  his  accustomed  errand,  when 
he  perceived  with  surprise  two  gentlemen,  arm 
in  arm,  coming  hastily  down  the  street.  This  sur 
prise,  was  exchanged  for  strong  apprehension, 
when,  as  they  drew  nearer,  he  recognized  the 
forms  of  the  well  known  and  hated  commissioners. 

"  And  where  now  so  early,  my  little  fellow  ?" 
said  Kellond,  pausing  before  the  gate.  "  The 
ghosts  and  goblins  must  still  be  all  awake,  and 
how  dare  you  venture  without  bible  and  psalm 
book?" 

"Let  me  beg  you,  sir,  not  to  concern  yourself 
on  my  account,"  replied  the  youth,  whose  exci 
ted  feelings  led  him  strongly  to  resent  the  un 
ceremonious  address,  "I  have  only  set  out  for  a 
little  ramble,  and  do  not  know  that  I  am  in  any 
particular  need  of  your  sympathy." 

"You  are  going  for  a  little  ramble,  are  you  ? 
and  so  are  we.  Perhaps  we  may  as  well  proceed 
together.  Hark'ee  my  boy,"  continued  Mr.  Kel 
lond  bending  his  eyes  earnestly  on  his  features, 
"  Dids't  ever  hear  of  the  Lady  of  the  Mist,  a  ca 
pricious  and  handsome  little  spirit  who  seems  to 
have  taken  up  her  residence  on  one  of  these  moun 
tains  hereabouts.  Did'st  ever  hear  of  her?" 

The  boy  felt  the  rapidly  changing  hues  of  his 
7 


74  THE    REGICIDES. 

countenance,  but  he  looked  boldly  in  their  faces, 
"  hear  of  her !"  he  replied  in  a  tone  of  surprise, 
"aye,  who  has  not  heard  of  the  pale  Lady  of  the 
Mist?" 

"  And  thou  hast  seen  her  too,  mayhap,"  re 
joined  Mr.  Kirk,  directing  upon  him  a  keen  and 
searching  glance.  "  Will  you  please,  young 
gentleman,  let  me  examine  that  little  basket  of 
yours?" 

"  The  basket  is  not  mine,"  replied  Henry,  in 
dignantly,  "  and  if  it  were,  sir,  I  assure  you  I 
should  allow  no  one  to  meddle  with  it.  Have 
you  any  commands,  gentlemen,"  he  added,  essay 
ing  to  open  the  gate  on  which  they  leaned. 

"  Why  touching  this  same  pale  spirit,"  said 
Mr.  Kellond,  "  whose  very  name  doth  turn  thy 
young  cheek  so  white,  my  friend  here,  and  my 
self,  have  a  particular  desire  to  take  a  peep  at 
her  ere  we  leave  the  village.  Could  you  guide 
us  to  her  residence." 

"  And  would  you  brave  the  fury  of  the  enemy, 
for  the  sake  of  your  curiosity?"  replied  the  boy 
in  atone  of  strong  remonstrance.  "If  you  would, 
sir,  indeed  I  dare  not  go  with  you." 

"  Look  here,  my  lad,"  said  the  other,  holding 
up  before  him  a  silver  coin,  "  we  must  see  this 
mountain  lady,  and  if  you  will  guide  us,  this  shall 
be  yours." 

The  boy  seemed  to  hesitate  and  looked  ear 
nestly  around  him.  "  Do  you  assure  me  ?"  he 
at  length  replied,  with  a  strong  effort,  "  shall  the 
money  surely  be  mine,  if  I  will  guide  you  to  the 
haunted  rock  ?" 

"  My  word  of  honor  for  it,  it  shall  surely  be 
yours.  Only  show  us  the  pale  lady." 

"  Then  wait  a  moment  for  me,"  replied  the 


THE    REGICIDES.  7") 

youth,  with  an  appearance  of  agitation,  "  I  must 
carry  this  basket  to  its  owner  Miss  Margaret  Wei- 
don  and  will  return  to  you  presently.''  So  say 
ing  he  darted  across  the  way,  and  began  to  knock 
impatiently  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Wilmot's  dwell 
ing.  Ere  long  it  was  gently  opened,  and  Marga 
ret  herself  stood  behind  it. 

u  Come  in — what  would  you,  Henry?"  she  in 
quired  with  an  air  oi'  deep  emotion,  and  she  hastily 
closed  the  door.  "  Tell  me,  I  beseech  you,  Hen 
ry,  what  do  yonder  g-  ntlemen  desire  of  you  ?" 

"  That  I  would  guide  them  to  the  dwelling 
of  the  pale  lady,  of  whom  they  have  heard  so 
much  ;  and  believe  me,  Margaret,  they  suspect 
the  truth.  They  are  waiting  for  me — what  shall 
I  do?" 

Without  inquiring  concerning  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  made  himself  acquainted  with  the 
secret  of  the  cave,  she  now  stood  for  a  moment 
absorbed  in  silent  and  intense  thought.  "Hen 
ry,  are  you  sure"  she  at  length  said,  "  that  they 
are  ignorant  of  the  locality  of  the  haunted  rock  r" 

"  If  I  may  judge  from  their  inquiries,  they 
know  nothing  about  it." 

"  Then  hear  me,  and  remember  that  the  lives 
of  great  and  good  men,  depend  on  your  actions. 
You  must  lead  these  strangers  astray.  By  the 
most  circuitous  route  you  can  take,  guide  them  to 
the  East  rock — make  all  possible  delays  on  the  road 
— any  thing  to  amuse  them  and  gain  time  for  their 
victims.  Conduct  them  to  the  remote  side  of  the 
rock,  and  thence  around  the  whole." 

"  And  when  they  at  length  discover  that  I  have 
deceived  them,"  interrupted  Henry. 

"  Fear  them  not — they  dare  not  harm  you — 
only  delay  it  as  long  as  possible.  Go  Henry,  they 


76  THE    REGICIDES. 

are  waiting  for  you,  but  remember  and  detain 
them." 

"  I  will — trust  me,  Margaret,  I  will,"  and  set 
ting  down  the  basket,  he  darted  forth  to  meet  his 
impatient  companions. 

Miss  Weldon  waited  only  until  the  forms  of  the 
strangers  and  their  young  guide  were  no  longer 
visible,  and  then  quickly  arranging  herself,  she 
hastened  down  the  steps  through  the  little  yard, 
and  with  a  boldness  which  only  the  desperation 
of  the  case  would  have  prompted,  she  proceeded 
by  the  most  public  path,  directly  across  the  vil 
lage,  towards  the  haunted  rock.  Fear  lent 
strange  speed  to  her  steps,  and  in  less  than  an 
hour  from  the  time  that  Henry  had  first  made  his 
appearance  she  was  at  the  mouth  of  the  cavern. 
Isabella  Goffe  had  discovered  her  approach,  and 
stood  without,  waiting  to  receive  her." 

"Your  father,  your  husband,  dear  lady,"  ex 
claimed  Margaret  leaning  half  breathless  against 
the  entrance. 

"  And  what  evil  awaits  them,  say  it  quickly, 
Margaret,  nay,  be  it  what  it  may,  I  am  prepared." 

"Then  I  must  tell  you,"  continued  the  agita 
ted  girl,  recovering  breath  and  moving  hastily 
into  the  cave,  "that  the  king's  officers  are  at  this 
moment  searching  for  you,  and  for  this  cave. 
They  have  heard  the  reports  concerning  the  La 
dy  of  the  Mist,  and  are  not  credulous  enough  to 
believe  them.  If  life  is  dear  to  you,  you  must  fly 
with  all  speed." 

"  And  where  are  they  now,"  said  Isabella,  with 
a  look  of  sudden  calmness  while  her  cheek  be 
came  white  as  the  fresh  fallen  snow,  "  Marga 
ret,  if  they  are  already  on  the  rock,  it  is  too  late 
to  fly." 


THE    REGICIDES.  77 

"No,  no,"  replied  the  young  lady,  "Henry  Da 
venport  has  led  them  astray,  and  they  are  at  this 
moment  searching  the  East  rock,  in  the  mistaken 
idea  that  it  contains  this  cave." 

Isabella  Goffe  had  meanwhile  approached  her 
husband  who  still  sat  in  a  recess,  his  brow  lean 
ing  thoughtfully  on  his  hand,  and  manifesting  an 
appearance  of  perfect  indifference,  while  Marga 
ret  pronounced  her  fearful  intelligence. 

"  Do  you  hear  her  ?"  said  the  lady,  twining  her 
arm  around  him,  and  looking  earnestly  in  his 
countenance. 

"  Nay,  Isabella,"  replied  the  outcast,  shaking 
his  head  and  regarding  her  with  a  smile  of  sor 
rowful  affection,  "  it  is  vain  to  attempt  it.  None 
dare  to  harbor  us,  and  even  if  they  did,  it  would 
only  serve  to  draw  on  them  the  fearful  blight  that 
rests  on  me  and  mine." 

"  William,"  continued  the  lady  solemnly,  a 
shade  of  agony  darkening  her  features,  "  will 
you  perish  without  an  effort  ?" 

"  Efforts  are  vain,  my  precious  Isabella.  It  is 
the  will  of  heaven  that  we  should  die  ;  and  surely 
it  is  a  light  thing  for  us  who  have  no  hopes  here," 
and  he  still  leaned  motionless  against  the  rock. 

"Now  hear  me,  William  Goffe,"  exclaimed  the 
lady,  in  clear  and  unfaultering  tones,  "  if  you  love 
me,  if  you  have  ever  loved  me  ;  nay  if  you  have 
not,  by  my  own  love  for  you,  I  beseech  you  cast 
not  madly  away  the  life  which  God  hath  given 
you,"  and  a  smile  of  intense  intreaty  wreathed  the 
lip  of  the  suppliant. 

"Any  thing,  my  blessed  Isabella,"  said  her 
husband,  rising  hastily  up  while  his  strong  tones 
trembled  with  emotion,  "I  will  do  and  suffer 
all  things  for  your  sake,  even  though  it  were  to 


78  THE    REGICIDES. 

live  ages  of  these  bitter  moments,"  and  they  now 
approached  the  entrance  of  the  cave. 

Margaret  Weldon  was  leaning  against  it,  her 
face  deeply  flushed :  and  the  old  man  stood  near 
her.  listening  to  her  words. 

"  Do  you  hear,  my  son,"  exclaimed  the  latter 
as  they,  approached,  "  do  you  see  the  path  which 
Providence  has  prepared  for  us.  This  kind  young 
lady  offereth  us  a  home  an^f  shelter  so  long  as  it 
shall  please  Heaven  to  spare  our  existence." 

"  Where,  and  how  ?"  said  the  other  in  surprise. 

"  You  shall  hear  it  William,  but  there  is  no 
time  for  explanation  now.  We  must  hasten  our 
retreat  ere  the  pursuers  discover  their  mistake. 
Heaven  reward  you  noble  girl,"  he  added  placing 
his  hand  on  the  head  of  Margaret,  "  for  that  in 
the  home  of  your  happiness  you  have  not  forgot 
ten  the  sorrowful;  and  the  blessing  of  him  that 
was  ready  to  perish  shall  surely  come  upon  you." 

Meanwhile,  Isabella  Goffe  with  that  look  of 
beautiful  composure  she  so  well  knew  how  to  as 
sume,  was  hastening  the  escape  of  her  devoted 
relatives.  A  forced  smile  still  played  on  her 
countenance,  and,  save  its  deathlike  paleness, 
there  was  no  expression  of  the  intense  agony 
which  wrung  the  heart  of  the  heroic  wife. 

"Farewell,  my  father,"  she  cried,  throwing  her 
arm  around  the  old  man,  as  he  lingered  a  mo 
ment  on  the  threshold.  "  It  will  be  long  ere  we 
meet  again — we  may  never  meet  again,"  she 
added  solemnly,  and  with  a  strong  effort  subdu 
ing  the  sobs  of  her  anguish.  "  Bless  me,  Oh.  my 
father,"  and  she  fell  upon  his  neck,  while  the  old 
man  breathed  forth  a  fervent  petition  that  the 
God  of  heaven  would  be  to  his  cherished  one  as 
a  hiding  place  from  the  wrath  of  that  fearful  tern- 


THE    REGICIDES.  79 

pest.  Then  turning  away  and  leaning  upon  his 
staff  he  moved  rapidly  downward. 

But  William  GofTe  still  lingered  at  the  door  of 
the  cave.  "  You  must  not  stay,"  exclaimed  the 
lady,  fervently.  "  Farewell,  William.  Long  and 
bright  days  may  yet  be  in  store  for  us,  even  on 
earth  ;  and  if  we  see  each  other's  faces  no  more 
here,  we  will  so  live  that  we  may  meet  in  heaven." 
He  folded  her  in  his  arms,  his  stern  lip  trembled, 
and  his  eye  grew  dim  with  tears. 

"  Farewell,  thou  best  and  loveliest — thou  art 
indeed  more  meet  to  bloom  amid  the  inheritance 
of  saints  in  light,  than  here — farewell,  my  own 
precious  Isabella,  fare  thee  well," — and  wrapping 
the  mantle  around  his  noble  form,  he  turned  ab 
ruptly  from  the  cave. 

Margaret  and  the  high  souled  Isabella  were 
still  standing  at  the  entrance,  and  gazing  ear 
nestly  upon  the  fast  receding  forms  of  the  judges, 
when  the  sound  of  a  loud  trampling  in  the  path 
beneath,  arrested  their  attention.  Two  well 
dressed  cavaliers,  whom  they  instantly  recognized 
as  the  royal  pursuivants,  were  ascending  the  steep 
acclivity.  Near  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  the 
quick  eye  of  Isabella,  familiar  with  every  avenue 
to  the  place  of  refuge,  discovered  their  horses  un 
der  the  shade  of  a  large  tree,  awaiting  their  re 
turn.  As  the  cavaliers  approached  the  summit, 
their  glances  were  directed  frequently  and  ear 
nestly  in  various  drections,  resting  at  last  on  the 
form  of  Isabella,  for  Margaret  had  retreated  with 
in  the  cave.  Mingled  surprise  and  admiration 
were  visible  on  their  countenances,  as  they  now 
obtained  a  nearer  survey  of  the  beautiful  inhabi 
tant  of  the  cliff;  and  as  if  they  had  expected  to 
find  the  Lady  of  the  Mist,  only  the  disguised 


80  THE    REGICIDES. 

form  of  one  of  the  regicides,  they  were  evidently 
confounded.  The  lady  herself,  with  a  reserved 
and  graceful  dignity,  seemed  waiting  their  mes 
sage. 

"  We  are  seeking,"  said  Kirk,  as  they  paused  a 
few  steps  from  the  place  she  occupied,  "  we  are 
seeking  to  obey  the  mandate  of  his  Majesty,  by 
arresting  two  condemned  criminals,  the  regicides 
Whalley  and  Goffe." 

"  Then  let  me  assure  you,  sir,"  replied  the  lady, 
in  tones  which,  in  spite  of  all  efforts,  betrayed 
her  emotion,  "  your  excursion  here  is  fruitless,  1 
am  the  sole  inhabitant  of  the  cave,  and  you  must 
seek  elsewhere  for  your  victims." 

"And  how  long,"  inquired  Kellond,  who  per 
ceived  at  once,  by  the  manner  of  the  lady,  that 
their  conjectures  were  not  groundless,  "  how  long 
since  the  said  criminals  effected  their  escape  from 
hence? — Shall  we  search  the  cave?"  he  continued, 
turning  to  his  companion,  for  Isabella  Goffe  now 
maintained  a  haughty  silence. 

"  It  is  in  vain  searching  the  cage,  when  the 
bird  has  flown,"  replied  Kirk,  following  at  the 
same  moment  the  direction  of  the  lady's  eye,  as 
she  cast  a  troubled  and  involuntary  glance  upon 
the  distant  road.  "  Tom  Kellond,  look  ye  there !" 
he  exclaimed,  suddenly  and  eagerly  pointing  his 
companion,  as  he  spoke,  to  a  point  in  the  road 
where  it  wound  round  a  green  and  shaded  hill, 
on  the  side  of  which  the  forms  of  the  fugitives 
were  at  that  moment  distinctly  visible. 

"  Can  you  tell  us,  madam,"  rejoined  Mr.  Kel 
lond  hastily,  "if  the  persons  you  are  gazing  after 
so  earnestly,  have  anything  to  do  with  the  objecti 
of  our  pursuit  ?  Methinks  they  answer  well  the  de 
scription."  A  flash  of  unutterable  agony  for  a 


THE    REGICIDES.  81 

moment  lighted  the  beautiful  eye  of  Isabella: 
the  next  indeed  a  careless  and  haughty  smile  ap 
peared  on  her  features,  but  it  was  too  late — they 
had  read  the  meaning  of  her  first  glance,  and 
now  without  waiting  for  further  inquiries,  moved 
swiftly  down  the  rock. 

"  There  is  no  hope  for  them,  Margaret, — 
they  will  surely  perish,"  exclaimed  Isabella,  as 
Miss  Weldon  issued  from  the  cave, — "  they  will 
surely  perish," — and  she  folded  her  arms,  and 
gazed  in  silent  and  hopeless  agony  upon  the  dis 
tant  and  beloved  forms  of  the  unconscious  vic 
tims. 

"  But  remember,"  replied  the  young  lady,  "  it 
is  only  our  superior  height  which  enables  us  to 
see  them.  Some  time  must  elapse,  ere  they  again 
become  visible  to  the  pursuers ;  and  perhaps  they 
may  first  be  warned  of  their  approach." 

"  Ah,  how  slow — how  slow  ye  move,"  muttered 
the  lady,  unconsciously  addressing  the  objects  of 
her  solicitude.  "  Would  to  heaven  that  my  voice 
were  the  thunder  or  the  whirlwind,  so  it  might 
reach  your  ear.  My  father — VVilliam — my  own 
William, — fly — fly — I  conjure  you," — and  her 
voice  was  choked  with  a  burst  of  agony,  too  wild 
for  control.  "  Ha  !  Margaret,  as  I  live,  they  are 
waiting  for  their  enemy,"  she  continued,  after  a 
moment's  pause  ;  and  Margaret  perceived,  with  a 
sensation  of  mingled  astonishment  and  horror, 
that  the  forms  of  the  distant  travelers  were  now 
indeed  apparently  stationary. 

The  road  at  a  short  distance  before  them  was 
intersected  by  a  small  but  rapid  stream,  over  which 
a  bridge  had  been  recently  erected  ;  and  after 
gazing,  for  a  few  moments,  in  every  direction 


THE    REGICIDES. 

around  them,  the  persecuted  judges  again  moved 
onward. 

"  Where  are  they,  Margaret,"  said  Isabella, 
who  having  turned  for  a  moment  to  watch  the 
progress  of  the  pursuers,  now  looked  in  vain  for 
the  forms  of  her  husband  and  father — but  neither 
could  her  companion  at  all  account  for  their  sud 
den  disappearance.  "  Ah,  I  comprehend  it  now," 
continued  the  lady  with  a  sudden  burst  of  delight, 
— "  they  are  concealed  beneath  the  bridge, — do 
not  doubt  it — did  you  mark  how  suddenly  they 
vanished  ?"  and  in  a  delirium  of  fear  and  hope, 
she  leaned  to  watch  the  approaching  crisis.  In 
descending  the  hill,  the  horsemen  gradually 
changed  the  quick  gallop  with  which  they  had 
first  appeared,  into  a  slower  movement,  occasion 
ally  pausing  and  gazing  earnestly  around  them. 
They  were  evidently  astonished  to  perceive  that 
the  objects  of  their  search  were  still  no  where  in 
sight,  and,  as  Margaret  had  feared,  unwilling  to 
believe  that  they  could  possibly  have  proceeded 
with  sufficient  velocity  to  become  invisible  in  the 
distance. 

"  Merciful  God  !  deliver  them,"  exclaimed  the 
lady,  as  Margaret  essayed  to  support  her  sinking 
form  in  her  arms.  The  pursuers  had  at  this  moment 
paused  in  the  midst  of  the  bridge,  and  were  ap 
parently  scrutinizing  with  much  interest,  the  fair 
and  quiet  landscape  around  them.  "  You  can 
not  bear  it — dear  Isabella,"  said  Margaret,  "  trust 
them  with  heaven,  and  come  into  the  cave." 

"  Oh,  hush — hush,"  whispered  Isabella,  regard 
ing  her  a  moment  with  that  fearful  smile  with 
which  love  had  taught  her  to  veil  her  wildest 
agony,  "  I  can  bear  any  thing,  Margaret, — do  not 
doubt  me,"  and  again  her  eye  rested  upon  the 


THE    REGICIDES.  83 

pursuers.  They  were  at  that  moment  dismount 
ing  from  their  horses,  and  after  carefully  fasten 
ing  their  bridles  to  the  railing  of  the  bridge,  and 
proceeding  to  the  other  side,  they  began  swiftly 
to  descend  towards  the  margin  of  the  stream. 

"  Ah,  they  are  lost !  After  all,  they  are  lost," 
murmured  Isabella  faintly.  "  I  was  wrong,  Mar 
garet,  I  can  not — no — I  can  not  endure  it,"  and 
with  one  long  and  agonizing  sigh,  her  head  droop 
ed  motionless  on  her  shoulder. 

"They  art  gone — look  up,  my  sweet  friend,  and 
fear  nothing,"  said  Miss  Weldon,  as  she  stood 
with  her  arm  around  the  lady,  and  fanning  with 
her  light  bonnet,  her  faded  brow  and  cheek. 
"  They  are  going  to  search  the  wood  beyond. 
Ah !  I  knew  they  would  never  dream  of  such  a 
hiding  place."  The  pursuers  were  now  indeed 
winding  their  way  along  the  margin  of  the  stream 
towards  an  extended  wood,  at  no  great  distance, 
whose  thick  and  tangled  underwood  seemed 
to  present  the  most  natural  place  of  conceal 
ment. 

A  faint  hue  of  life  at  this  moment  tinged  the 
cheek  of  the  pale  Isabella,  and  a  joyful  bright 
ness  glistened  in  her  eye,  for  now  the  beloved 
beings,  who  had  but  just  seemed  lost  to  her  for 
ever,  suddenly  appeared  rising  from  the  bank  of 
the  stream.  They  passed  swiftly  over,  and  then 
paused  a  moment,  pointing  to  the  horses  which 
their  pursuers  had  tied  to  the  bridge.  After  a 
moment's  consultation,  the  younger  of  the  fugi 
tives  turned  again  to  the  bridge,  and  loosening 
the  bridles,  left  the  horses  at  liberty ;  and  then 
rapidly  rejoined  his  companion.  The  steeds,  as 
if  comprehending  his  wishes,  quietly  trotted 


84  THE    REGICIDES. 

homeward,  leaving  their  worthy  riders  to  the  free 
employment  of  their  respective  powers  of  loco 
motion.  In  what  manner  these  were  exercised, 
doth  not  appear  from  our  history;  it  is  certain, 
however,  that  the  regicides  pursued  without  dis 
covery,  their  northward  journey. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


IT  is  impossible  for  the  most  vivid  imagination, 
to  conceive  the  various  reports  which  would  pro 
bably  have  originated  from  the  events  just  describ 
ed,  or  rather  from  such  fragments  of  those  events 
as  might  have  found  their  way  to  the  village,  had 
not  the  whole  curiosity  of  the  community  been 
suddenly  diverted  to  a  still  more  interesting  sub 
ject.  It  had  been  now  for  many  hours,  a  matter 
beyond  doubt,  that  the  wedding  of  Margaret  Wei- 
don  was  that  evening  to  be  celebrated  at  the 
dwelling  of  her  aunt. 

Preparations  for  the  approaching  festival,  the 
inquiry  who  were  invited,  who  had  failed  of  an 
invitation,  the  probable  dress  and  appearance  of 
the  bride, — were  all  subjects  too  painfully  and 
engrossingly  interesting  to  allow  of  any  long  di 
gressions. 

At  an  early  hour  a  large  party  were  assembled 
in  Mrs.  Wilmot's  best  room,  awaiting  with  anx 
ious  glances,  the  entrance  of  the  bride.  The 
room  had  been  arranged  in  a  style  of  taste  and 
rural  elegance  becoming  so  joyful  an  occasion;  its 
walls  were  hung  with  festooned  wreaths  of  flow 
ers,  and  several  large  and  beautiful  bouquets 
adorned  the  mantel-piece — opposite  this  was  an 
arched  recess,  profusely  adorned,  and  as  yet  unoc 
cupied. 

8 


86  THE  REGICIDES. 

Mrs.  Wilmot  had  a  few  minutes  since  welcomed 
her  last  guest,  and  all  was  now  anxious  and  silent 
expectation,  interrupted  indeed  by  an  occa 
sional  whispered  conjecture  of  some  of  the 
younger  females  of  the  party.  All  surmises  and 
queries,  however,  were  now  speedily  silenced  by 
the  entrance  of  the  bridal  train,  and  the  ceremony 
and  prayers,  much  longer  and  more  particular 
than  in  these  degenerate  days,  were  performed 
without  interruption  or  embarrassment.  Some 
there  were,  indeed,  who  hinted  at  the  excessive 
paleness  of  the  young  bride,  kindly  hoping  that  her 
choice  had  not  so  soon  been  repented  ;  but  our 
readers  who  are  acquainted  with  the  circumstan 
ces  of  her  morning  ramble,  will  certainly  place 
upon  it  a  more  charitable  construction.  We  will 
pass  over  the  details  of  the  merriment,  that  now 
echoed  through  the  apartment;  and  indeed  the 
whole  wedding  might  have  been  consigned  to  a 
similar  oblivion,  but  for  the  sake  of  a  singular 
circumstance  which  occurred  during  its  celebra 
tion,  forming  a  tlierne  for  fireside  meditation  for 
months  and  even  years  afterwards. 

In  the  midst  of  a  confused  hum  of  conversation 
and  as  nearly  as  could  be  recollected,  just  after 
the  performance  of  the  ceremony,  it  was  suddenly 
perceived  by  some  of  the  less  loquacious,  that 
there  was  in  the  company  a  stranger  to  whom  not 
one  had  been  introduced.  In  a  retired  corner  of 
the  room  sat  a  female  whose  appearance  was  pe 
culiar.  The  entire  want  of  ornament  in  her  dress, 
while  it  attracted  the  attention  of  some,  was  to 
others  the  least  striking  peculiarity  in  her  appear 
ance  ;  for  when  her  face,  at  first  downcast  as  if 
in  mental  absence,  was  raised,  they  saw  a  coun 
tenance  of  strange  and  indescribable  beauty,  but 


THE  REi;icii)i:s.  87 

pale  and  sorrowful,  as  if  the  light  of  young  hopes 
had  gone  out  there  forever,  leaving  in  its  stead 
high  thoughts  and  holy  purposes,  but  nought  of 
earth  save  its  deep  and  tender  affections.  Such 
as  were  most  curious  in  noticing  her  dress,  dis 
covered,  as  the  breeze  from  the  window  slightly 
disarranged  the  drapery  which  covered  her  neck, 
that  she  wore  a  rich  golden  necklace.  This  cir 
cumstance  might  have  been  forgotten  had  not 
other  incidents  afterwards  kept  it  in  remem 
brance. 

The  low  interrogations  that  now  passed  from 
group  to  group,  instead  of  satisfying  only  excited 
to  a  higher  point,  the  prevalent  feeling  of  curi 
osity.  None  could  toll  who  the  stranger  was,  or 
whence  she  came.  The  curiosity  of  the  company 
was  gradually  tinged  with  superstition  and  height 
ened  to  fear.  And  when  some  one,  in  a  whisper, 
at  last  interrogated  the  mistress  of  the  mansion, 
her  evident  evasion  of  the  question  by  some  inde 
finite  and  purposely  ambiguous  reply,  gave  no 
satisfaction.  There  was  a  slight  check  on  the 
merriment  of  the  company.  The  tones  of  laugh 
ter  if  no  less  loud  than  at  first,  were  less  free  and 
careless,  and  many  a  sidelong  glance  was  direct 
ed  to  the  corner  occupied  by  the  stranger. 

Indeed  those  who  first  discovered  her  presence, 
afterwards  asserted  that  at  the  first  glance  some 
indescribable  sensation  struck  to  their  hearts ; 
and  it  was  said  that  those  whose  attention  was 
directed  thither,  if  ever  so  gay  at  the  moment, 
became  gradually  reserved  and  gloomy. 

At  length,  the  eye  of  the  stranger  was  lifted 
with  a  new  expression.  Alice  Weldon  had  just 
entered  the  room,  and  the  illuminated  glance  of 
the  lady  followed  her,  as  she  glided  among  the 


88  THE    REGICIDES. 

guests  in  the  exuberance  of  childish  happiness. 
The  thoughts  of  the  more  imaginative  and  ner 
vous  among  the  observers,  testified  that  there  was 
surely  something  mysteriously  fascinating  in  the 
smile,  with  which  the  object  of  so  much  curi 
osity,  watched  every  movement  of  the  child,  as 
if  anxious  to  catch  her  notice.  Presently  the 
eye  of  the  little  one  turned  towards  the  cor 
ner,  where  the  stranger  sat  alone.  That  gaze 
of  delight  arrested  her  attention ;  and,  in  a 
moment,  an  answering  smile  played  upon  her 
lip. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  lady  who  happened 
to  be  nearest  the  child,  sought  with  a  violent 
effort  to  engage  her  in  something  else.  The 
attempt  was  for  a  moment  successful,  but  that 
strangely  winning  smile  seemed  to  attract  her 
with  an  irresistible  influence.  With  a  quick 
movement  she  withdrew  her  hand  from  the 
grasp  that  confined  it,  and  in  spite  of  the  ef 
forts  made  to  divert  her  attention,  moved  slow 
ly  across  the  room.  The  smile  deepened  on 
the  lip  of  the  stranger,  as  the  lovely  child  now 
hesitatingly  approached  her. 

"  You  are  a  beautiful  lady,"  said  the  little 
one,  pausing  at  a  short  distance  from  her,  as  if 
afraid  to  advance  ;  "  you  are  the  prettiest  lady 
I  have  seen  to  night — shall  I  come  and  sit  with 
you  ?" 

"  Ah,  come,  come,  sweet  one,"  replied  the  lady, 
in  a  rich  and  trembling  tone,  while  every  feature 
kindled  with  a  look  of  intreaty. 

Alice  stood  for  a  moment  with  her  hand 
in  hers,  and  looked  silently  upwards  on  her 
countenance.  "Are  you  like  Margaret?"  she 
at  last  said,  with  an  air  of  perplexity,  turning 


THE    REGICIDES.  89 

at  the  same  moment  towards  the  bride,  as  if 
seeking  to  institute  a  comparison  between  them. 
"  No,  no,  it  is  not  Margaret,"  she  added  look 
ing  again  at  her  new  friend, — "  Who  are  you 
like  ?" 

The  stranger  replied  only  by  bending  to  press 
the  lips  of  the  little  girl  to  hers. 

"  You  must  love  me  as  well  as  Margaret," 
she  at  length  added,  in  the  same  subdued 
and  thrilling  tone,  "will  you  not,  my  precious 
one  >" 

"Shall  I  love  you  better?"  replied  the  child, 
climbing  suddenly  into  her  embrace,  and  twining 
her  soft  little  arms  around  her,  "  shall  I  love  you 
better  than  Margaret,  a  thousand  times  better  ?" 
and  she  pressed  her  lips  to  those  of  her  new 
found  friend,  until  the  lady  seemed  unable  to  re 
press  her  emotion. 

This  was  the  last  that  was  noticed  of  them. 
The  entrance  of  refreshments  for  a  few  mo 
ments  absorbed  the  attention,  and  when  curi 
ous  eyes  were  again  turned  to  the  corner, 
neither  Alice  nor  the  mysterious  stranger,  were 
visible.  The  former,  however,  soon  re-appeared 
from  a  door  which  opened  to  the  hall,  and  it 
was  at  once  percieved,  that  she  wore  on  her 
fair  and  rounded  neck,  the  golden  chain  which 
had  before  beon  discovered  on  the  neck  of  the 
stranger  lady.  It  was  also  percieved  that,  on 
her  return,  she  manifested  an  appearance  of 
deep  melancholy,  and  seating  herself  in  the 
place  which  the  stranger  had  occupied,  scarcely 
smiled  or  spoke  during  the  remainder  of  the 
evening. 

The   influence  of  the  stranger  over  the  little 
orphan,  was  not  confined  to  the  present  occasion. 
8* 


90  THE     REGICIDES. 

It  was  thought  that  a  seriousness  and  unusual 
pensiveness  of  disposition,  was  ever  after  dis 
coverable  in  her  character. 

The  next  morning  the  good  ship  Beaver  sail 
ed  for  Liverpool,  and  from  that  time  forth,  no 
thing  more  was  seen  or  heard  of  "  the  Lady  of 
the  Mist." 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  course  of  our  history  requires  us  to  pass 
over  the  fifteen  ensuing  years,  without  any  par 
ticular  notice.  During  that  time  important  chan 
ges  had  taken  place  as  well  in  the  scene  of  this 
story,  as  in  the  persons  who  are  its  actors.  The 
village  was  gradually  becoming  a  large  and  flour 
ishing  town,  and  many  of  the  families  which  had 
before  occupied  its  chief  places  were  no  longer 
to  be  found.  Their  heads  had  gone  down  to  the 
land  of  forgetfulness,  their  various  members  were 
widely  scattered,  while  another  household  gath 
ered  around  the  hearth  which  had  once  been  sa 
cred  to  their  joys. 

Mrs.  Mary  VVilmot,  however,  still  lived,  and  in 
the  same  place  as  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter. 
Time  had  not  much  altered  its  appearance.  The 
house  was  as  white,  and  the  gravel  walks  as  clean, 
and  the  flowers  as  blooming,  as  when  fifteen  years 
ago,  the  fair  Margaret  had  left  the  place  for  her 
husband's  residence.  Another  hand,  indeed,  now 
taught  the  woodbine  to  climb  in  its  wonted  place, 
and  propped  and  trimmed  the  sweet-briar  and 
roses  that  adorned  the  court ; — but  they  had  lost 
nothing  by  the  exchange,  that  hand  was  as  fair 
and  gentle,  and  the  taste  which  arranged  them, 
as  exquisite,  as  any  that  ever  culled  a  blossom, 


92  THE    REGICIDES. 

since  the  first  fair  tender  of  flowers  brightened 
the  first  garden  with  her  beauty.  Mrs.  Wilmot 
had  not  been  deserted  in  her  declining  years.  A 
lovely  and  accomplished  young  lady,  whom  she 
had  reared  from  her  early  childhood,  was  now 
her  constant  companion  ;  and  though  there  were 
some  who  hesitated  not  to  pronounce  her  a  sin 
gular  and  unaccountable  being,  the  old  lady  found 
in  her  all  that  was  gentle,  and  patient,  and  love 
ly.  The  charge,  however,  was  not  wholly  ground 
less. 

Alice  Weldon  had  indeed  exhibited  on  many 
occasions,  what  had  seemed  wildness  and  eccen 
tricity  of  character,  to  those  who  had  no  clue  to 
the  secret  springs  of  her  noble  nature.  A  roman 
tic  imagination,  a  set  of  ardent  and  enthusiastic 
feelings,  and  a  certain  pure  and  fearless  inde 
pendence  of  soul,  together  formed  a  character 
which  all  might  not  love,  and  which  only  the  few 
with  spirits  like  hers,  could  truly  appreciate. 
Alice  Weldon  had  never  exhibited  to  her  com 
panions,  or  even  cherished  in  her  secret  heart,  any 
selfish  emotions  of  pride ;  on  the  contrary,  a  pe 
culiar  sweetness  of  deportment  on  her  part,  had 
ever  marked  their  intercourse.  But  there  was  a 
kind  of  unconscious  superiority  in  the  curl  of  her 
rosy  lip  ;  she  seemed  to  live  in  a  world  of  fancy 
and  feeling,  to  them  inaccessible  ;  she  was 
more  beautiful,  more  graceful,  more  intellec 
tual  than  her  companions ;  and  though  not  in 
fact  haughty  or  capricious,  it  was  not  strange 
that  as  the  character  of  the  child  became  gradu 
ally  merged  in  that  of  the  elegant,  high  spirited 
and  romantic  young  lady,  these  epithets  began 
freely  to  attach  themselves  to  her  name. 

These  evil  dispositions  were,  in  part,  attributed 


THE    REGICIDES.  93 

to  that  defective  system  of  education  which  Mrs. 
Wilmot  had  adopted  with  her  niece.  Alice  Wei- 
don  had  ever  been  allowed  the  indulgence  of  all 
her  innocent  tastes  and  feelings,  without  opposition 
or  restraint.  Her  love  for  the  romantic  had  been 
encouraged  by  frequent  and  lonely  rambles 
among  the  beautiful  scenery  in  the  outskirts  of 
the  village.  An  exquisite  taste  for  drawing,  had 
been  improved  by  the  lessons  of  a  teacher  who 
had  chanced  to  reside  a  few  months  in  the  colo 
ny.  Her  thirst  for  poetry  had  been  gratified  by 
a  perusal  of  the  best  authors.  The  native  melo 
dy  of  her  voice,  untaught  save  by  an  occasional 
attendance  at  the  village  singing  school,  was 
warbled  forth  in  a  thousand  plaintive  airs;  and 
one  could  scarce  ever  pass  the  door  of  Mrs.  Wil- 
mot's  house  at  twilight,  without  listening  to  her 
sweet  and  bird-like  tones. 

But  by  far  the  most  important  source  of  Alice 
Weldon's  singularities,  was  supposed  by  some  to 
lie  in  the  rich  golden  chain  that  ever  adorned  her 
person.  The  strange  manner  in  which  it  had 
been  acquired,  was  not  yet  forgetten  ;  and  it  was 
still  supposed  to  exert  a  mysterious  influence 
over  all  her  thoughts  and  feelings.  Indeed  it 
did  appear  as  if  some  melancholy  spell  had  been 
secretly  breathed  over  the  heart  of  its  possessor. 
A  brilliant  gaiety  of  spirit  was  sometimes  seen 
bursting  forth  in  every  tone  and  look,  like  a  rich 
gleam  of  sunshine  among  clouds,  and  then  again 
retreating,  as  if  at  the  bidding  of  that  hidden  in 
fluence. 

It  was  a  pleasant  June  twilight,  and  Alice  Wei- 
don  was  standing  by  the  parlour  window,  her 
head  bowed  down  earnestly  to  catch  the  last 
beams  of  daylight  that  lingered  on  the  page. 


94  THE    REGICIDES. 

But  the  shadows  fell  fast,  and  raising  her  eye  to 
the  window,  she  perceived  that  she  was  the  ob 
ject  of  an  earnest  and  protracted  gaze  from  a  gen 
tleman  who  was  at  that  moment  slowly  passing. 
The  stranger,  for  such  he  seemed,  was  tall,  well 
dressed,  and  prepossessing  in  his  appearance.  He 
smiled,  and  as  Alice  imagined,  bowed  slightly 
just  as  she  averted  his  countenance.  The  circum 
stance  was  surely  a  singular  one,  so  much  so, 
that  the  young  lady  still  continued  by  the  wind 
ow  absorbed  in  a  profound  reverie,  until  the  voice 
of  Mrs.  Wilmot  summoned  her  to  the  table.  Not 
that  the  casual  passing  of  a  stranger,  or  even  a 
curious  and  protracted  glance  of  the  window, 
were  by  any  means  unparalleled  occurrences  ;  nor 
was  the  expression  of  admiration  with  which  he 
evidently  surveyed  her,  altogether  a  thing  unpre 
cedented.  The  stranger  had  indeed  seemed  pe 
culiarly  gifted  with  those  attractions  of  person, 
which  are  usually  counted  upon  as  best  suited  to 
win  the  heart  of  a  young  and  romantic  female  ; 
but  we  will  do  our  heroine  the  justice  to  say,  that 
for  all  this,  the  memory  of  the  youth  might  have 
passed  away  from  her  mind,  as  his  manly  form 
fuded  from  her  vision.  But  that  momentary 
glance  had  aroused  the  sweet  and  thrilling 
memories  of  childhood  ;  there  was  something  in 
that  smiling  countenance,  to  remind  her  of  one 
whom  she  had  once  known  and  loved  ;  and  every 
time  that  the  image  of  the  youthful  stranger  re 
turned  to  her  fancy,  there  came  with  it,  the  dark 
locks,  the  clear  eye,  and  the  sunny  brow,  of  him 
who  had  been  the  companion  of  her  infancy. 

The  next  day  it  became  a  well  authenticated 
piece  of  intelligence  that  Mr.  Henry  Davenport, 
son  of  the  former  venerable  pastor  of  the  town 


THE    REGICIDES.  95 

had  come  from  Boston  to  take  up  his  residence 
in  New-Haven  having  become  I  he  possessor  of 
the  property  left  by  the  deceased  patriarch  in  the 
colony  which  had  first  numbered  him  among  its 
pillars.  The  addition  of  an  rdurak-d  and  ac 
complished  young  man  to  the  society  of  the  place 
was  a  much  more  unfrcqucnt  and  important  event 
than  at  the  present  day,  and  while  none  received 
the  intelligence  with  indifference,  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  to  the  rninds  of  some,  at  least  among 
the  young  and  fair,  the  event  thus  announced 
was  one  of  special  interest.  Many  were  anxious 
to  renew  their  acquaintance  with  the  rich  and 
honored  young  man,  whom  they  remembered  only 
as  the  active,  high-spirited  and  amiable  boy.  It 
was  not  strange  that  thus  for  a  few  weeks  he  was 
fast  becoming  an  object  of  some  interest  to  the 
fair  ones  of  the  village.  A  sudden  check  was 
however  put  to  any  indiscreet  admiration  that 
might  have  been  lavished  upon  him  by  the  intel 
ligence  that  Alice  Weldon,  amid  the  unobtrusive 
seclusion  of  her  aunt's  dwelling,  in  the  loveliness 
of  her  youth  and  beauty,  had  won,  irretrievably 
won,  the  heart  of  the  accomplished  young  Da 
venport. 

It  was  a  bright,  bland,  summer  evening  when 
Henry  Davenport  first  openly  declared  the  histo 
ry  of  a  long  and  devoted  attachment.  But  there 
is  something  in  the  development  of  the  first  love 
nf  a  young  heart,  altogether  too  sacred  for  the 
1<  aves  of  a  printed  volume  ;  and  we  have  ever  felt 
that  there  was  a  kind  of  sacrilege  done,  when  the 
recesses  of  such  a  soul  have  been  broken  open, 
and  those  sweet  and  holy  affections  which  would 
fain  shrink  even  from  their  own  consciousness  or 
are  at  best  revealed  to  one  alone,  have  been  pour- 


96  THE    REGICIDES. 

ed  out  in  passionate  expressions  for  the  gaze  of  the 
many — the  cold  hearted,  perhaps,  the  rude  and 
the  curious.  The  incidents  of  the  tale  however 
and  the  development  of  its  characters,  require 
the  introduction  of  the  present  scene,  and  we 
must  plead  the  above  mentioned  scruples,  togeth 
er  with  some  slight  inexperience  of  our  own,  as 
an  apology  for  the  blank  in  its  description. 
********* 

The  blush  had  faded  from  the  neck  and  brow 
of  the  fair  girl,  but  her  head  leaned  on  her  hand, 
and  its  living  damask  still  glowed  through  the 
slender  fingers  and  the  bright  hair  that  fell  over 
them.  There  had  been  a  few  low  and  broken 
words,  but  these  were  past,  and  now  her  voice 
was  clear  and  calm. 

"  Henry,  they  have  told  you  that  I  was  a  ro 
mantic  and  singular  being,  that  my  actions  were 
all  guided  by  the  influence  of  a  mysterious  and 
secret  charm.  I  am  about  to  prove  that  these 
things  are  true.  To  all  that  I  may  have  said  in 
an  unguarded  moment,  there  is  one  unyielding 
condition.  You  may  think  me  unjust  and  ca 
pricious — but" — 

"  Name  it,"  interrupted  the  youth  hastily, 
"Alice,  if  it  is  a  deed  for  mortal  arm,  you  have 
but  to  name  your  condition." 

The  young  lady  slowly  unclasped  the  beautiful 
ornament  that  adorned  her  neck,  and  placed  it 
in  his  hand.  "Reveal  to  me  the  fate  of  the  be 
ing  who  gave  me  this." 

"Nay,  Alice,  you  are  trifling  with  my  feelings, 
he  answered,  gazing  with  surprise  upon  the  cost 
ly  trinket,  "  this  is  unkind — you  cannot  be  se 
rious." 

"  I  am  serious,  Henry,"  replied  the  lady.     He 


THE    REGICIDES*  97 

\vho  would  win  my  hand,  must  first  penetrate,  for 
me,  the  mystery  which  involves  the  history  of  her 
who  gave  this  necklace,"  and  as  she  spoke  she 
pointed  to  a  small  and  rudely  inscribed  motto 
beneath  the  clasp. 

"  JV  ovbliezpas  ta  mere"  murmured  the  young 
gentleman,  holding  it  near  the  light.  "  What 
means  it  Alice?  I  had  thought  that  this  was  the 
chain  given  you  when  a  child  by  the  strange  lady 
at  your  sister's  wedding." 

"It  is,  Henry  Davenport,  it  is  the  very  same; 
and  I  doubt  not  that  lady  was  my  mother.  Nay 
hear  me,  Henry.  You  call  me  Alice  Weldon, 
and  you  think  me  the  sister  of  Margaret  Russel, 
and  the  niece  of  Mrs.  Wilmot;  but  when  I  tell 
you  that  in  thus  doing  you  are  mistaking  me  for 
another,  perhaps  you  will  credit  my  assertion  : 
The  stranger  who  clasped  this  chain  around  my 
neck,  was,  without  doubt,  my  mother." 

"Explain  yourself,  Alice,"  rejoined  the  other 
in  a  tone  of  surprise  and  agitation.  "You  cer 
tainly  cannot  expect  me  to  comprehend  your 
meaning." 

"  You  doubtless  remember,"  continued  the 
young  lady,  the  "  circumstances  of  her  myste 
rious  appearance." 

"They  have  often  been  related  to  me;  but 
until  this  moment,  I  had  always  believed  it  the 
exaggeration  of  ungratified  curiosity,  which  at 
tached  such  importance  to  the  gift.  Indeed  I 
had  reason  to  imagine,  that  it  was  only  present 
ed  from  motives  of  affection  to  your  si-ter.  Go 
on  Alice — your  words  are  strange,  and  yet  me- 
thinks  they  tally  well  with  some  wild  thoughts  of 
my  own,  many  years  ago." 

"  I  was  but   four  years  old."  continued  Miss 
9 


98  THE    REGfCIDES. 

Weldon.  "when  this  singular  occurrence  took 
place ;  but  the  impressions  it  produced,  are  still 
vivid  in  my  recollection.  Ah,  I  can  never  forget 
the  thrilling  ideas  that  rushed  upon  my  mind,  when 
I  first  surveyed  the  stranger,  as  she  sat  in  yonder 
recess.  But  she  was  no  stranger  to  me." 

"And  you  had  seen  her  then  before,"  inter 
rupted  her  auditor. 

"  I  am  almost  certain  that  I  had,  and  yet  I  can 
not  remember  the  occasion,  but  I  well  know  it- 
was  no  new  face  to  me.  It  seemed  rather  like 
one  of  those  beautiful  countenance  that  had 
often  looked  down  and  smiled  upon  me  in  my 
dreams,  and  my  heart  sprang  forth  to  meet  her, 
impelled  by  some  unaccountable  influence.  And 
when  she  bade  me  farewell — \v<  stood  in  the 
porch  together,  and  she  folded  me  to  her  bosom 
with  such  a  passionate  embrace,  and  wept  over  me 
with  such  an  agony  of  tenderness,  calling  me  her 
own  precious  and  cherished  one,  and  charging 
me  to  remember  and  love  her  so  long  as  I  should 
live  in  the  world,  that,  were  I  to  live  for  ages,  I 
could  never  forget  her.  Henry,  I  have  remem 
bered  her,  and,  in  all  her  beauty  and  sorrowful 
tenderness,  her  image  is  at  this  moment  as  fresh 
before  me  as  when  she  stood  among  the  ivy,  weep 
ing  over  me  that  last  farewell.  And  yet,  per 
haps,  this  beautiful  memorial,  which  never  for  a 
moment  suffered  the  bright  picture  to  grow  dim, 
contributed  much  to  strengthen  these  impres 
sions.  Thenceforth  she  was  the  idol  of  my  fan 
cy,  the  bright  spirit  of  my  waking  and  slumbering 
visions.  I  do  not  mean  that,  at  that  time,  I  had 
even  for  a  moment  conjectured  the  relation  which 
subsists  between  us.  The  being  that  I  then  loved 
was  the  creature  of  my  imagination  and  dear  to 


THE    REniCIOES.  90 

me  as  furnishing  an  object  to  those  mysterious 
and  secret  yearnings,  that  had  ever  haunted  my 
solitude." 

"  And  did  you  never  feel  your  curiosity  excited 
concerning  her?" 

"Often,  and  most  painfully,  but  my  inquiries 
were  all  in  vain.  Aunt  Wilmot  has  ever  assured 
me  of  her  entire  ignorance  respecting  her  fate. 
Two  years  ago  as  I  was  one  morning  arranging 
the  drawers  of  an  old  fashioned  escrutoire,  that 
stood  in  my  aunt's  apartment,  my  hand  acciden 
tally  touched  a  secret  spring  which  discovered 
a  department  of  the  case  1  had  never  before 
seen.  I  was  delighted  at  the  occurrence,  be 
cause,  this  ancient  piece  of  furniture  had  remain 
ed  in  the  family  for  several  generations,  and  I  fan 
cied  I  was  about  to  discover  the  secrets  of  some 
past  age.  The  first  letter  I  seized  upon,  bore 
the  fragments  of  a  black  seal ;  and  on  opening 
it  I  perceived  that  it  was  addressed  to  my  aunt. 
Delicacy  would  of  course  prevent  my  perusing 
it,  but,  as  I  was  closing  it,  my  eye  glanced  un 
intentionally  upon  the  first  lines,  and  I  trembled 
with  amazement.  You  may  read  it,  Henry,  if 
you  will,  for  I  copied  it  ere  I  left  the  apartment." 

The  young  man  seized  with  avidity  the  folded 
paper,  which  was  now  presented  to  him.  It  con 
tained  the  following  sentences.  "This  will  in 
form  you,  madam,  of  the  death  of  Alice  Weldon, 
youngest  daughter  of  your  deceased  sister,  Mrs. 
Margaret  Weldon.  We  were  preparing,  as  our 
last  informed  you,  to  send  her  to  America  ac 
cording  to  the  provisions  of  the  will,  and  indeed 
had  made  arrangements  to  forward  her  in  charge 
of  the  gentlemen  who  hands  you  this  letter, 
when  she  was  suddenly  attacked  with  a  violent 


100  THE    REGICIDES. 

disease  which  on  the  24th  inst.  terminated  her 
existence,"  Mr.  Davenport  rose  hastily  from  his 
seat  as  he  finished  its  perusal  and  began  to  walk 
with  a  hurried  and  unconscious  step.  A  flush 
had  meanwhile  gathered  on  his  cheek ;  and  an 
expression  of  mingled  astonishment  and  delight 
animated  his  countenance. 

"And  was  there  aught  else,  Alice — Alice  Wei- 
don,  for  so  I  must  and  will  call  you,  did  this  cu 
rious  letter  contain  any  further  information  ?" 

"Only  some  tedious  details  which  convinced 
me  that  its  writer  was  the  executor  of  Mrs. 
Weldon's  estate ;  but  I  had  no  heart  to  exam 
ine  further.  The  date  was  precisely  the  time  at 
which  I  was  supposed  to  have  arrived  in  Ame 
rica,  and  I  was  at  once  convinced  that  I  had, 
all  my  life,  usurped  a  name  and  station  to  which 
I  had  no  claim.  Hitherto  orphan  though  I  was, 
I  had  deemed  myself  surrounded  with  endeared 
and  affectionate  relatives;  but  now  the  delusion 
was  over,  I  was  alone  in  the  world — an  isolated 
being,  and  my  hopes  all  clouded." 

"  And  why  so  Alice  ?  What  if  this  discovery 
should  reveal  to  you  relations  far  nearer  than 
those  it  has  annihilated,  and  teach  you  to  claim 
a  parentage  that  princes  might  glory  in.  Ah,  I 
see  it  all  now.  There  is,  there  cannot  be  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt — Alice  Weldon,  did  you  nev 
er  suspect  yourself  to  be  the  daughter  of" — 

"Of  whom  ?"  repeated  the  young  lady  in  low 
and  hushed  tones,  for  she  had  waited  in  vain  for 
the  conclusion  of  the  sentence — he  was  still  si 
lent,  and  her  cheek  became  colorless  as  the  white 
rose  that  lay  in  her  hair. 

"  I  have  done  wrong.  Forgive  me,  my  gentle 
Alice,"  he  at  length  replied,  checking  his  hur~ 


THE    REGICIDES.  101 

ried  movements,  and  his  kindled  eye  softening 
as  he  spoke,  "  Mrs.  Wilmot,  as  well  as  Govern 
or  Leet  must  have  been  privy  to  this  strange 
secret,  and  you  say  that  they  never  hinted  any 
thing  to  you  concerning  it." 

"  Never!" 

"  And  have  you  never  revealed  to  them  this 
singular  discovery?" 

"No;  the  thought  was  agony — till  this  night 
the  secret  has  been  buried  in  my  own  heart,  and 
but  for  you  it  might  have  died  with  me.  It  did 
indeed  double  my  inquiries  concerning  the  myste 
rious  visit  of  the  stranger,  but  they  were  always 
evaded,  and  indeed,  Mrs.  Wilmot  seemed  pained 
whenever  it  was  mentioned.  For  as  I  had  felt 
my  relations  to  the  beings  around  me  suddenly 
severed,  my  thoughts  Itad  gradually  fastened,  with 
a  new  and  strange  devotion,  upon  that  beautiful 
image  of  memory,  which  seemed  to  me  to  con 
centrate  all  that  was  lovely  in  human  tenderness. 
I  endeavored  to  reason  calmly,  to  divest  myself 
of  enthusiasm,  I  remrmbered  every  tone  and 
look,  the  gust  of  tears,  the  passionate  embrace; 
and  I  could  not  but  feel  that  there  was  a  link  in 
our  destinies,  something  strong  as  the  ties  of  na 
tural  affection.  The  translation  of  the  little  mot 
to  you  see  on  the  clasp  was  at  length  obtained, 
"  Forget  not  thy  mother"  There  was  no  longer 
a  doubt.  Yes,  Henry,  it  was  my  own  mother 
who  fifteen  years  since  went  forth  from  this  house 
in  such  bitterness.  Who  knows  but  that  she  may 
still  live — alone — unprotected — in  peril  and  sor 
row,  while  I  whose  duty  it  is  to  soothe  and  com 
fort  her,  am  wasting  my  hours  in  careless  ease, 
unmindful  of  one  who  charged  me  to  love  and 
remember  her.  No,  Henry,  1  will  enter  into  no 


102  THE    REGICIDES. 

new  relations  until  I  can  fulfil  those  first  and  sa 
cred  obligations,  of  which  this  gift  is  an  endu 
ring  token.  I  cannot  be  happy  and  I  will  not 
mar  with  my  own  dark  fortunes  the  destiny  of 
another." 

"  But  she  may  be  dead,"  replied  the  youth  in 
agitation.  "  Say  nothing  rashly,  Alice.  Remem 
ber,  fifteen  years  have  past  since  you  saw  her." 

"  I  do.  And  now  hear  me,  Henry — hear  the 
condition  of  my  plighted  troth.  Unravel  this 
mystery — I  know  you  have  already  a  clue  you 
do  not  choose  to  confide  to  me — but  I  will  not 
urge  you.  Uuravel  this  mystery.  Reveal  to  me 
the  fate  of  this  mysterious  being,  and  oh,  if  living, 
restore  her  to  me." 

"And  then?" 

"  I  will  deem  it  my  highest  happiness  to  love 
and  honor  you  forever." 

"  The  curfew  now  slowly  announced  the  hour 
of  nine,  and  Henry  Davenport  ere  long  departed 
for  his  lodgings. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


ON  a  cold  moonlight  winter  evening,  some 
eighteen  months  after  the  events  recorded  in 
the  last  chapter,  a  small  sleigh  was  seen 
blithely  jingling  over  the  road  which  forms 
the  southern  entrance  to  the  village  of  H — 
The  back  seat  was  occupied  by  two  ladies  com 
pletely  enveloped  in  the  folds  of  a  huge  buffalo 
skin,  and  that  in  front  by  a  single  gentleman  in 
the  capacity  of  driver. 

"  Drive  faster,  Richard,  for  heaven's  sake,"  ex 
claimed  one  of  the  ladies  in  an  impatient  tone, 
as  they  slackened  their  pace  at  the  slight  ascent 
before  them.  "I  say,  Richard,  if  you  do  not  set 
us  down  somewhere,  and  that  speedily,  I  will  take 
the  reins  myself."  "  If  one  of  these  drifts  would 
suit  your  ladyship,"  replied  the  other,  turning 
with  a  threatening  air  to  the  roadside,  "  I  can 
easily  accomplish  your  wishes.  Will  you  alight  ?" 

"Ah,  Richard,  you  will  not  laugh  when  you 
find  me  frozen  to  death  under  the  buffalo  skin. 
I  tell  you  my  fingers  are  icicles  already." 

"Then  they  must  be  strikingly  improved  in 
complexion,"  replied  the  other  with  an  air  of  ex 
treme  indifference,  but  at  that  moment  a  loud 
and  triumphant  shaking  of  the  bells  announced 
that  the  horse  with  his  dignified  and  leisurely 
tread  had  at  length  completed  the  ascent.  "  Ah  ! 
and  here  we  are,"  shouted  the  driver,  pointing  at 


104  THE    REGICIDES. 

the  same  moment,  with  his  whip,  to  the  prospect 
which  had  just  become  visible. 

On  the  plain  beneath,  at  no  great  distance,  a 
comfortable  cluster  of  brown,  red  and  white 
houses,  now  appeared  interrupting  the  bold  ext 
panse  of  snow  and  moonlight,  while  the  fires  and 
candles  gleaming  through  the  distant  windows 
seemed  to  diffuse  a  delicious  glow  through  the 
hearts  of  the  half  frozen  travellers. 

"But,  Richard,  we  have  been  so  often  deceived 
with  these  log  houses,  and  jack-a-lanterns,  I  don't 
believe  it  is  the  real  village." 

"Not  the  village,  Susan.  Why  then  my  pre 
cious  sister,  open  your  eyes.  Do  you  not  see  the 
steeple  as  plain  as  daylight  at  the  northern  ex 
tremity,  and  a  little  to  the  right,  the  sparks  from 
the  blacksmith's  forge,  they  told  us  of,  and  did 
we  not  pass  the  "  Three  mile  mill,"  half  an 
hour  ago  ?" 

Meanwhile  they  were  darting  down  the  hill, 
with  sufficient  rapidity  to  compensate  for  the  te- 
diousness  of  the  ascent. 

"What  a  hill  for  a  slide,"  said  the  talkative 
young  lady,  turning  for  a  moment  to  survey  it,  just 
as  they  reached  the  plain.  "  I  declare,  I  would  like 
nothing  better  than  to  be  a  child  for  fifteen  min 
utes,  if  it  were  only  to  enjoy  another  frolic  in  the 
snow — and,  as  it  is,  I  would  risk  rny  dignity  for 
a  single  slide  from  yonder  summit.  Ah,  Alice, 
you  need  not  smile  so  contemptuously,"  she  con 
tinued,  turning  to  the  lady  who  sat  silently  by 
her,  "  1  have  known  graver  and  wiser  ladies  than 
yourself  guilty  of  similar  indiscretions.  Even 
that  revered  matron  we  are  about  to  visit,  aye, 
and  the  madam  of  a  parish — I  remember  the 
day  when  she  sprung  on  the  sled  and  rode  down 


THE    REGICIDES.  105 

as  blithely  as  any  of  us.  But,  I  fancy,  she  failed 
not  of  some  grave  rebukes  on  the  subject.  Do 
you  remember  it,  Richard  ?  It  was  the  night  the 
English  travellers  came,  and  whom  should  we 
meet  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  but  the  worthy  Mr. 
Russel  himself.  But  I  beg  your  pardon,  Richard, 
I  remember  you  always  chose  to  ride  by  yourself. 
It  was  Henry  Davenport  that  was  guiding  the 
sled." 

"And  do  you  know,"  interrupted  the  young 
man,  without  regarding  her  previous  remark,  that 
young  Davenport  has  returned  from  England?" 

"Returned!"  exclaimed  the  silent  young  lady, 
in  a  tone  of  thrilling  emphasis,  and  smarting  as  if 
electrified.  Richard  did  I  hear  you  aright  ? 
Henry  Davenport  returned  ?" 

"Aye;  so  they  say,"  replied  her  companion,  I 
found  an  old  friend  of  ours  at  the  last  inn,  who 
says  he  met  him  three  days  ago  in  the  streets  of 
Boston,  and  never  saw  him  looking  better." 

"And  is  he  going  to  New-Haven  ?"  continued 
the  young  lady  in  the  same  tone  of  eager  inquiry. 
"  What  did  he  say,  tell  me  I  pray  you,  Richard." 

"Indeed, cousin  Alice,"  replied  the  other,  "I 
was  always  bad  at  guessing,  and  as  I  happened  to 
be  driving  you  quietly  over  the  Connecticut 
hills,  at  the  time  of  their  interview,  it  is  impos 
sible  for  me  to  decide  what  were  his  veritable 
words." 

"Did  you  not  know,"  said  Susan,  leaning 
across  the  seat  and  speaking  in  a  loud  whisper, 
"  that  about  a  year  and  a  half  since,  it  was  re 
ported  that  Henry  Davenport  was  engaged  to 
Alice,  and  it  was  all  broken  off  so  suddenly?  I 
am  sure,  Dick,  you  might  have  spared  her  feel 
ings." 


106  THE    REGICIDES. 

The  conversation  had  gradually  become  inter 
esting,  and,  before  they  were  aware  of  it,  they 
found  themselves  entering  the  principal  street  of 
H .  It  was  only  seven  o'clock,  and  the  vil 
lage  presented  an  appearance  of  considerable 
animation.  Sleighs  were  moving  merrily  along, 
and  the  pleasant  sound  of  the  bells,  the  lights 
from  the  windows  of  the  dwelling  houses,  and 
above  all  the  illumination  which  glared  from  the 
little  grocery,  dry  good,  and  hardware  store,  in 
the  midst,  produced  the  idea  of  busy  and  cheer 
ful  enjoyment.  The  snow  had  been  thrown  in 
piles  on  either  side  of  the  way,  and  some  of  the 
inhabitants  were  now  enjoying  the  comfortable 
foot-paths  thus  furnished,  in  sallying  forth  for  the 
social  evening  visit.  Near  the  center  of  the  vil 
lage,  the  principal  street  was  intersected  by  an 
other  from  the  east,  and  it  was  on  one  of  the 
angles  thus  formed  that  our  party  at  length  drew 
up  before  the  large  square  house  which  had  been 
pointed  out  to  them  as  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Rus- 
sel.  It  was  one  of  the  most  ancient  in  the  village, 
and  having  never  been  painted,  it  had  acquired 
from  long  exposure,  that  tinge  of  sombre  brown 
so  redolent  with  gloomy  associations, — and  there 
was  an  air  of  loneliness  and  desertion  about  it, 
with  the  large  old  barns  in  the  rear,  particularly 
when  seen,  as  now,  with  their  long  and  quiet  sha 
dows  lying  in  the  moonlight.  Every  object  ex 
hibited  an  air  of  perfect  stillness,  there  were  no 
lights  in  the  windows,  and  not  even  a  dog  to  bark 
their  welcome. 

"  There 's  no  wonder  they  call  it  a  haunted 
house,"  said  Susan  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
vexation,  and  turning  to  her  companion  in  the 
sleigh,  while  Richard  knocked  loudly  at  the  door. 


THE    HEGICIDES.  107 

"  I  am  quite  sure  I  never  saw  a  house  look 
more  like  it-" 

"  They  are  not  at  home,  sir,"  said  a  tidy  looking 
woman,  who  had  at  length  made  her  appearance. 
"  They  are  gone  to  the  meeting — the  minister's 
meeting — and  wont  return  till  to-morrow.  Will 
you  walk  in  ?" 

"Ah!  that  we  will,  good  woman,  if  you  have 
such  a  thing  as  a  fire,"  replied  the  young  man, 
hastening  at  the  same  moment  to  assist  the  ladies 
in  alighting. 

"  It  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Russel  are  absent,  I  would 
not  stay  in  this  house  to-night  for  the  world," 
whispered  Susan  to  her  companion,  as  they 
mounted  the  steps,  "and  indeed  I  should  not 
wonder  if  we  were  carried  off  bodily  before 
morning,"  she  continued,  in  a  still  lower  tone,  as 
they  followed  their  conductress  through  a  long 
and  extremely  narrow  hall.  "  Stranger  things 
hiive  happened  here,  if  all  tales  are  true." 

The  door  which  terminated  the  passage,  was 
at  length  thrown  open,  and  the  travelers  were 
ushered  into  a  bright  and  pleasant  little  parlor, 
the  social  aspect  of  which  seemed  to  remove 
all  cause  of  discontent.  There  was  a  fresh  blaze 
on  the  hearth,  and  the  light  and  glow  of  the  apart- 
mentcontrasted  strongly  with  the  cold,  pale  moon 
light  without.  The  guests  had  been  expected. 
A  small  table  was  already  spread  for  their  re 
freshment,  and  the  good  Mrs.  Ramsay  now  has 
tily  arranged  chairs  for  them  around  the  fire. 

"  Ah,  this  seems  more  like  a  Christian  dwel 
ling"  whispered  Susan,  in  a  low  voice,  as  the 
good  dame  left  the  apartment,  "but,  Richard,  I 
confess  I  do  not  exactly  like  the  idea  of  staying 
in  the  haunted  house  alone,  or  at  least  with 


108  THE    REGICIDES. 

strangers.     I  would  rather  the  minister  were  at 
home." 

Richard's  sarcastic  reply  was  interrupted  by 
the  re-appearance  of  Mrs.  Ramsay,  who  seem 
ed  indeed  to  act  in  a  much  higher  capacity  than 
that  of  an  ordinary  domestic. 

"  Mrs.  Russel  bade  me  tell  you  to  make 
yourselves  at  home,  if  you  came  during  her 
absence  ;  that  is,  if  you  are  her  sister  and 
cousins." 

"  I  believe  we  can  prove  the  fact  to  a  demon 
stration,  good  Mrs.  Ramsay,"  answered  Richard, 
gaily  disencumbering  himself  of  his  superfluous 
apparel,  "  and  I  for  one  shall  make  use  of  its  pri 
vileges,  ghosts  and  goblins  to  the  contrary  not 
withstanding." 

After  a  few  meaning  glances  on  the  part  of 
Susan,  the  young  ladies  rose  to  follow  his  exam 
ple,  thus  presenting  Mrs.  Ramsay  an  opportunity 
of  more  unobservedly  satisfying  her  curiosity. 
They  were  both  expensively  dressed  ;  but  the 
discriminating  eye  of  their  observer,  soon  detect 
ed  a  peculiar  tastefulness  in  the  apparel  of  the 
younger.  The  mantle  she  had  worn  on  her  en 
trance,  had  fallen  from  her  shoulders,  the  dark 
pelisse  beneath  revealing  her  light  and  graceful 
figure.  As  she  laid  aside  her  veiled  bonnet,  the 
waving  curls  beneath  fell  on  a  brow  like  marble, 
high  and  fair,  and  darkly  penciled ;  a  gleam  of 
spiritual  beauty  looked  out  from  her  blue  eyes, 
softened  and  shaded  with  its  drooping  lashes  ; 
while  the  melancholy  cast  of  expression  touching 
every  feature  would  have  given  interest,  nay, 
fascination,  to  a  countenance  of  ordinary  outline. 
Nor  was  her  companion  destitute  of  personal  at 
tractions;  her  form  was  graceful,  a  sparkling 


THE     REGICIDES.  109 

bloom  rested  on  her  lip  and  cheek  ;  and,  in  other 
company,  she  might  have  been  deemed  beauti 
ful.  But  the  light  of  genius  and  fancy,  the  bloom 
of  rich  thoughts  and  feelings,  will  ever  stamp  on 
the  countenance  of  their  possessor,  a  superior 
and  el>  vated  loveliness. 

Though  the  worthy  Mrs.  Ramsay  had  not  arriv 
ed  at  exactly  the  same  conclusion,  with  that  to 
which  we  have  conducted  our  readers,  she  was 
evidently  investigating  the  comparative  merits  of 
the  young  ladies,  with  a  spirit  of  determined 
resolution.  The  result,  however,  appeared  at  first 
satisfactory.  "If  I  may  make  bold  to  say  it," 
she  at  last  said,  turning  to  Susan  with  an  air  of 
triumphant  skill,  "I  expect  you  must  be  Madam 
RussePs  sister." 

"  No  ;  I  have  not  that  honor — only  her  cou 
sin." 

"  Then  T  will  never  trust  a  likeness  again," 
muttered  the  other  in  a  disappointed  tone,  turn 
ing  to  the  table  to  hide  her  vexation.  "  I  am  sure 
the  other  young  lady  favors  her  no  more  than  I 
do.  No  body  would  dream  of  their  being  rela 
ted."  Guessing  was  certainly  Mrs.  Ramsay's 
forte;  and  she  now  completed  the  arrangement 
of  the  table,  with  an  air  which  evinced  her  dis 
pleasure  at  the  failure. 

Alice  VVeldon  was  the  only  one  who  seemed 
not  to  relish  the  inviting  repast.  There  was  a 
violent  tremor  in  her  whole  frame,  a  strong  and 
visible  excitement  of  feeling,  and  notwithstanding 
her  complaints  of  the  effects  of  cold  and  weari 
ness,  her  gay  companions  ere  long  desired  to  knovr 
its  cause. 

But  at  that  moment,  the  wind  moaned  heavily 
through   a  distant  part  of  the  building,  and   all 
10 


1JO  THE    REGICIDES. 

the  unpleasant  associations  which  the  cheerful 
appearance  of  the  little  parlor  had  for  a  time  dis 
pelled,  seemed  to  return  with  increased  energy. 
"  It  is  nothing  br-t  the  whistling  of  the  wind," 
replied  Mrs.  Ramsay,  as  Susan  rose  suddenly 
from  her  seat  by  the  table,  and  earnestly  demand 
ed  its  cause.  "  The  shutters  too  are  loose,  and  a 
breeze  from  the  north  will  always  move  them." 
But  neither  this  explanation,  nor  the  raillery  of 
her  brother,  had  power  to  allay  the  excited  fears 
of  the  young  lady.  When  the  keen  apprehen 
sion  of  evil  is  once  aroused,  it  needs  no  frightful 
occurrence  to  continue  and  strengthen  its  in 
fluence.  The  slightest  sound,  the  most  trivial 
incident,  is  greedily  converted  into  cause  of  alarm, 
until  the  mind  is  wrought  up  to  an  intense  and 
perhaps  intolerable  pitch  of  emotion. 

"If  you  had  seen  what  I  have  seen,"  said  Mrs. 
Ramsay,  as  the  trio  seated  themselves  by  the  fire, 
"  and  if  you  had  heard  what  I  have  heard,  you 
might  well  be  afraid."  She  paused  as  if  for  en 
couragement  to  proceed. 

"  And  prythee  what  have  you  seen  ?"  replied 
Richard,  with  a  contemptuous  smile,  "  be  a  little 
more  definite,  I  intreat  you." 

"Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth — to  be  plain  with 
you,"  continued  Mrs.  Ramsay,  approaching  the 
fireside,  with  a  solemn  and  mysterious  expression, 
"you  must  know  that  this  house,  a  certain  part 
of  it  I  mean,  is  haunted.  Those  who  find  it  for 
their  interest  may  deny  it  as  they  will,  but  I  will 
stand  to  it,  the  longest  day  I  live — the  house  is  a 
haunted  one." 

"  What  part  of  it,  good  Mrs.  Ramsay  ?"  cried 
Susan,  looking  earnestly  around  the  room,  and 


THE    REGICIDES.  Ill 

suppressing,  for  a  moment,  her  quickened  breath 
ing. 

"Do  you  see  that  door?"  continued  the  other, 
pointing  to  what  seemed  a  small  closet  behind 
Susan. 

"  What  of  it,  Mrs.  Ramsay  ?"  exclaimed  the 
young  lady,  suddenly  vacating  her  seat  for  one  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  fire. 

"  Nay,  Susan,"  interrupted  Alice,  now  raising 
her  thoughtful  and  abstracted  gluuce  from  the 
embers.  "You  do  wrong  thus  to  agitate  your 
feelings.  I  cannot  feel  that  there  is  cause  for 
your  alarm." 

"Ah,  you  cannot,"  replied  the  other  with  a 
scornful  smile.  "  Well,  I  will  confess  to  you, 
cousin  Alice,  my  inferiority.  T  am  not  so  much 
wiser  than  the  rest  of  this  generation,  as  altogether 
to  defy  supernatural  beings.  Perhaps  if  I  were 
as  good  as  Richard  and  yourself,  I  might  exhibit 
more  courage." 

"  Perhaps  you  might,  my  dear,"  replied  the 
youth  calmly.  "But  as  it  is,  we  must  intreat 
Mrs.  Ramsay  to  defer  her  frightful  stories  till 
daylight." 

•    "  Ah  !  and  good  reason,"  retorted  Susan,  "  you 
dare  not  hear  them." 

"Dare  not?"  repeated  her  brother  contemptu 
ously,  "  You  shall  see.  Good  woman  I  will  save 
you  the  trouble  of  describing  these  apartments," 
and  he  moved  with  rapid  steps  towards  the  door 
so  mysteriously  designated.  But  Richard  was  not 
at  heart  ill-natured  and  the  agonizing  intreaties 
of  his  sister  at  length  prevailed.  Perhaps  too 
some  private  misgivings  of  his  own  exerted  their 
due  influence.  Be  this  as  it  may,  his  character 


112  THE    REGICIDES. 

was  vindicated,  and  he  now  again  approached  the 
fireside. 

"  And  now,  Mrs.  Ramsay,  do  tell  us  all  about 
it,"  continued  Susan  eagerly.  "  That  mysterious 
door.  Where  does  it  lead  ?" 

"Heaven  knows,"  replied  the  old  woman,  de 
voutly  folding  her  eyelids.  "Heaven  knows — 
not  I.  So  long  as  I  have  lived  in  this  house, 
which  is  two  years  this  coming  Thanksgiving,  I 
have  never  lifted  the  latch,  and  heaven  forbid  I 
ever  should.  But  I  have  seen  it  opened.  Aye, 
with  my  own  bodily  eyes  have  I  seen  it — and  that 
too  when  the  lock  was  turned  and  the  key  hang 
ing  above  the  mantel-piece,  as  plain  as  it  does 
at  this  moment."  Mrs.  Ramsay  moved  her  chair 
into  the  circle  as  she  spoke,  and  Susan  Leet  drew 
closer  to  her  cousin. 

"  Did  you  see  any  one  ?"  inquired  the  latter  in  a 
faultering  voice. 

"  Aye,  as  plainly  as  I  see  you  at  this  moment. 
I  saw  a  face  like  the  face  of  a  human  being, 
but  pale  and  ghastly,  and  the  eyes  were  sunk 
en" 

"  Nay,  Mrs.  Ramsay, — tell  me  no  more  of  these 
things,"  cried  Susan,  shuddering  and  turning  to 
Alice,  who  now  indeed  seemed  herself  to  have 
imbibed  a  portion  of  her  own  interest  in  the  nar 
ration.  "  Do,  dear  Alice,  sing  us  a  song,  and  let 
us  forget  these  horrible  ideas." 

The  request  was  immediately  complied  with, 
and  Miss  Weldon  rejoiced  in  an  opportunity  of 
diverting  her  own  attention  from  the  fearfully 
fascinating  narrative.  The  song  selected  was 
one  calculated  to  arouse  a  far  different  train  of 
association,  and  Richard  soon  found  means  to  in 
troduce  subjects  of  conversation  better  suited  to 


THE    REGICIDES.  113 

his  own  mirthful  spirit.  The  evening  now  wore 
away  without  further  recurrence  to  the  subject  of 
their  apprehensions  ;  though  an  occasional  glance 
at  the  mysterious  door,  testified  that  Susan  had 
not  entirely  forgotten  it. 

It  was  now  ten  o'clock.  Richard  had  a  few 
minutes  ago  retired ;  and  the  young  ladies 
drew  their  chairs  more  closely  around  the  fire, 
to  enjoy  for  a  few  moments  its  delicious  glow, 
ere  they  ventured  to  brave  the  cold  of  their  sleep 
ing  apartment.  If  there  is  one  time  when  young 
females  are  more  prone  to  indulge  in  fanciful 
reveries  than  another,  it  is  certainly  this,  when 
the  ceaseless  hum,  the  absorbing  cares  or  plea 
sures,  of  the  day,  are  past,  and  they  sit  quietly 
down  to  commune  with  their  own  wild  and  happy 
thoughts,  without  fear  or  distraction.  Ah,  how 
many  lovely  hopes  have  sprung  up  in  the  bright 
ness  of  the  winter's  hearth,  how  many  airy  castles 
have  arisen  to  the  eyes  of  beauty,  and  crumbled 
and  faded  away,  in  its  glowing  crimson.  But  we 
cannot  transcribe  the  thoughts  which  now  kindled 
the  eye  of  our  heroine.  It  is  a  time  when  the 
loved  and  the  absent  are  remembered;  and  Alice 
VVeldon  would  not  have  breathed,  even  to  the 
cousin  whose  arm  was  around  her,  the  secret 
hopes  which  her  fancy  then  cherished. 

But  these  reveries  were  now  unexpectedly  dis 
turbed  by  the  re-appearance  of  Mrs.  Ramsay. 
She  came  into  the  room  with  a  hurried  movement, 
and  Alice  could  not  but  think  that  there  was  a 
singular  expression  on  her  features;  but  as  she 
seated  herself  silently  by  the  fire,  she  forbore  to 
notice  it. 

"  Do  you  hear  that  noise  ?"  exclaimed  Susan, 
after  a  few  moment's  silence,  and  directing  as 
10* 


114  THE    REGICIDES. 

she  spoke,  a  surprised  and  terrified  glance  around 
the  apartment.  "  For  several  minutes  I  have 
heard  that  strange  sound.  Say,  Mrs.  Ramsay, 
can  you  tell  me  where  it  is  ?" 

"  Not  I," — replied  the  old  woman,  while  her 
eye  reflected  back  the  whole  quantum  of  terror 
which  Susan's  had  communicated, — "Do  you  hear 
it,  Miss  Weldon?" 

In  the  interval  of  profound  silence  which  now 
ensued,  Alice  could  indeed  faintly  distinguish  a 
sound  like  that  of  a  human  groan,  as  if  echoing 
along  some  distant  passage.  All  eyes  were  now 
fixed  intently  upon  the  mysterious  door,  until  the 
cheek  of  Alice  Weldon  became  as  pale  as  that  of 
her  more  timid  companions.  The  low  repeated 
groan,  seemed  gradually  to  grow  more  distinct, 
as  the  increased  effort  of  attention  rendered  the 
effect  more  powerful. 

"  Does  Mr.  Russel  never  enter  these  strange 
apartments  ?''  murmured  Alice  faintly. 

"  Ah,  that  he  does  ;  and  the  more  the  sin,  and 
the  shame  say  I,  for  him,  a  Christian  minister." 

"  And  do  you  believe,"  continued  Alice,  "  that 
so  true  and  holy  a  man  as  your  minister,  would 
have  dealings  with  the  spirits  of  evil  ?  Hark  ! — 
Again  ! — Listen,  Susan,  that  surely  is  the  voice  of 
human  suffering." 

Susan  had  arisen  in  the  extremity  of  her  terror 
and  was  now  leaning,  pale  and  almost  breathless, 
against  the  corner  of  the  mantel-piece.  Mrs. 
Ramsay  sat  trembling  beside  her.  "  Are  you 
sure,"  continued  Alice,  glancing  at  the  latter, 
uthat  yonder  key  will  indeed  unlock  this  door?" 

"Quite  sure; — I  know  it.  But  what  would 
you  do  with  it,  Miss  Alice  ?"  she  added  in  an  al- 


THE    REGICIDES.  1  15 

tered  tone,  as  the  young  lady  calmly  approached 
and  took  it  from  its  resting  place. 

"Alice,  Alice  Weldon,  what  would  you  do?" 
cried  Susan,  casting  on  her  cousin  a  look  of  ago 
nized  inquiry,  as  she  stood  for  a  moment  gazing 
thoughtfully  towards  the  door. 

"  If  it  were  not  too  bold  a  deed  for  a  single  girl, 
Susan,  I  would  open  at  once  that  mysterious 
door.  Oh,  those  fearful  tones  !"  she  added  as 
still  another  groan  was  borne  on  the  air, — "  They 
pierce  my  heart,  I  cannot  stay  here,  when  there 
is  a  chance  of  relieving  the  sufferer.  Say,  Mrs. 
Ramsay,  does  Margaret,  does  Madam  Russel  her 
self  ever  enter  those  apartments?" 

"  So  they  say,"  replied  Mrs.  Ramsay,  reluc 
tantly. 

kt  Susan,  I  will  never  believe  that  Margaret 
hath  done  aught  beneath  the  character  of  a  Chris 
tian  woman." 

"  Oh  do  not  depend  on  that,"  replied  her  cous 
in  intreatingly,  "dearest  Alice,  I  assure  you  that 
strange  suspicions  rested  on  her  name,  many 
years  ago,  even  before  she  left  our  village." 

"  But  you  forget  Susan,  that  you  are  speaking 
to  her  sister.  Margaret  is  no  more  connected 
with  unearthly  beings  than  I  am  at  this  moment." 

Susan  had.  in  the  ardor  of  her  emotion,  laid  her 
hand  upon  her  cousin's  arm  as  if  to  prevent  her 
daring  purpose,  but  at  that  moment  she  suddenly 
withdrew  it,  as  though  those  words  had  conveyed 
to  her  some  strange  and  fearful  meaning;  and 
after  gazing  at  her  for  a  moment  with  an  expres 
sion  which  Alice  could  by  no  means  comprehend, 
she  turned  shuddering  away  from  her. 

"  How  can  you,  how  dare  you  go?"  said  Mrs. 
Ramsay,  as  the  young  lady  slowly  approached 


116  THE    REGICIDES. 

the  door,  for  at  that  moment  the  sound  of  a  dis 
tant  tread  was  clearly  perceptible.  Alice  paused 
for  a  moment,  and  then  placing  the  key  in  the 
lock,  the  next,  the  dreaded  door  was  open  be 
fore  her. 

She  now  found  herself  standing  at  the  head  of 
a  rude  staircase:  and  the  light  she  held  in  her 
hand,  streamed  upon  it,  sufficiently  to  make  visi 
ble  the  darkness  of  a  narrow  subterranean  pas 
sage  beneath.  The  damp  air  from  below  sent  a 
sudden  chill  through  her  frame  ;  she  paused  a 
moment,  and  throwing  over  her  shoulders  the 
rich  mantle  which  hung  beside  her,  again  set  out 
on  her  fearful  errand.  The  staircase  was  steep 
and  difficult  of  descent,  but  her  foot  at  length 
rested  on  the  flooring  of  earth  below  and  she 
moved  quickly  forward.  The  passage  through 
which  she  was  now  treading,  was  extremely  nar- 
now.  A  stone  wall  on  either  side  bounded  her 
vision,  and  the  fearful  glances  she  directed 
down  the  dimly  lighted  vault,  were  equally  con 
fined  by  an  abrupt  angle  in  the  path  before  her. 
But  the  undaunted  girl  still  moved  on  ;  and,  in  a 
few  moments  more,  she  had  reached  the  corner  and 
was  rapidly  turning  it.  At  that  instant  there  was 
a  sudden  darkness.  A  gust  of  chill  air  from  be 
yond  had  extinguished  her  lamp.  It  was  in  vain 
that  she  sought  to  rekindle  the  lingering  spark,  it 
only  expired  the  more  readily  and  she  now  found 
herself  involved  in  total  darkness.  To  return 
from  whence  she  came,  and  that  with  all  possible 
speed,  was  the  first  terrified  impulse;  but,  in  the 
confusion  of  the  moment,  she  had  lost  the  direction 
of  the  parlor,  and  had  now  no  possible  guide  to 
her  steps.  At  that  instant,  there  appeared  a  faint 
light  shining  high  in  the  aperture  of  a  wall  at 


THE     REGICIDES.  117 

some  distance  before  her,  forming  what  seemed 
the  outline  of  a  door;  but  whether  ^his  would 
conduct  her  again  to  the  parlor,  or  to  the  myste 
rious  object  of  her  search,  was  only  a  matter  of 
fearful  conjecture.  After  groping  for  some  time 
in  perfect  silence,  for  the  groans  had  now 
entirely  ceased,  she  found  herself  ascending 
the  ladder  which  led  to  the  lighted  apartment 
above.  Now  there  came  from  within  the  sound 
of  a  heavy  tread,  and  the  young  adventurer 
paused — but  the  life  blood  came  back  to  her 
heart  again,  and  with  it  her  dauntless  purpose  ; 
the  next  moment,  and  she  stood  on  the  thresh- 
hold  above.  The  lock  rattled  to  her  touch — 
there  was  the  sound  of  a  turning  key  within,  and 
the  door  of  the  apartment  opened  wide  before 
her.  Amid  the  sudden  and  painful  rush  of  light, 
a  form  of  commanding  grace  stood  before  her, 
and  a  dark  and  sorrowful  eye  rested  sternly  on 
hers.  She  would  have  spoken,  but  the  words 
died  on  her  lip;  she  leaned  tremblingly  upon 
the  wall,  and  at  length  there  came  a  low  and 
brief  apology;  but  the  stranger  still  gazed  as  if 
heedless  of  its  import.  If  the  idea  of  superna 
tural  agency  had  for  a  moment  intruded  while 
groping  through  the  darkness  below,  it  all  van 
ished  bjneath  that  silent  gaze.  There  was  a 
touch  of  earth  and  its  sorrows,  on  every  object  of 
that  lonely  room,  and  her  very  soul  was  hushed 
and  awed,  at  the  recollection  that  she  had  dared 
to  intrude  upon  its  sacredness. 

It  was  only  a  momentary  glimpse  indeed  which 
Alice  directed  to  the  objects  of  the  apartment. 
It  contained  no  windows,  the  faint  light  of  the 
mouldering  fire  flickered  upon  the  walls,  and  the 
lamp  burned  dimly  in  its  socket.  A  case  of 


118  THE    REGICIDES. 

books  stood  near  the  door ; — there  was  a  low 
table  in  the  center  of  the  apartment,  and  scatter 
ed  around  it  a  few  cushioned  chairs  with  covers 
of  faded  green.  A  couch  stood  near  the  fire, 
of  like  ancient  and  worn  materials,  and  here 
indeed  the  quick  glance  of  Alice  rested.  A  wide 
cloak  fell  carelessly  over  it,  and  its  folds  were 
heaving  to  the  low  and  quickened  breathings  of 
human  agony.  It  was  no  fancy  then ;  that  deep 
groan  had  borne  its  own  true  and  fearful  mean 
ing,  and  there  lay  the  suffering  and  dying  one. 
And  yet  the  pity  which  had  prompted  the  ef 
fort,  almost  vanished  amid  the  deep  emotions 
that  now  thrilled  her  heart.  It  was  the  face  of 
an  old  man,  and  very  pale,  the  eyes  were  closed 
as  in  slumber,  and  every  feature  was  thin  and 
worn  as  if  with  long  and  bitter  suffering.  Yet 
there  was  around  those  features  the  peaceful 
beauty  of  holiness,  a  smile  was  on  the  thin  and 
faded  lip,  and  in  every  furrow  of  that  noble  brow 
were  the  records  of  the  battle  fought,  the  vic 
tory  won,  and  the  diadem  laid  up  above,  in 
corruptible  and  unfading  ;  it  seemed  as  if  the 
brightness  of  heaven  were  near,  and  the  agony 
of  earth  almost  ended.  But  Alice  was  still  con 
scious  that  the  other  inmate  of  the  apartment 
had  not  ceased  to  regard  her  with  fixed  and  pain 
ful  earnestness.  He  was  indeed  silent,  but  a 
strong  flush,  mantling  high  even  among  the 
dark  locks  that  shaded  his  temples,  betrayed  no 
trivial  emotion. 

"  Forgive  my  intrusion,  sir,"  said  Alice  in  low 
and  trembling  tones,  "  it  was  not  for  idle  curiosi 
ty — indeed,  sir,  I  will  prove  that  it  was  not ;  only 
tell  me  how  I  can  in  any  way  serve  you,  or" — 

The  stranger  was  evidently  about  to  speak, 


THE    REGICIDES.  119 

but  at  that  moment  a  low  and  protracted  groan 
burst  from  the  couch  of  the  invalid.  Though 
the  sound  of  heavy  steps  and  opening  doors,  had 
not  aroused  him  from  that  deathlike  lethargy; 
the  faint  tones  of  that  sweet  and  murmured  voice, 
seemed  to  have  recalled  him  to  the  consciousness 
of  suffering — his  eye  roamed  wildly  over  the 
apartment.  In  a  moment  his  companion  was  be 
side  him  gently  bathing  his  temples,  and  evident 
ly  stifling  his  own  deep  sighs  with  words  of  con 
solation.  But  there  was  no  reply — for  the  eye 
of  the  invalid  now  rested  on  the  spot  where  the 
beautiful  young  stranger  was  leaning,  her  face 
bright  with  emotion,  and  the  drapery  of  her  scar 
let  mantle  streaming  from  her  shoulders.  There 
was  something  irresistibly  attractive  in  that  be 
seeching  glance,  and  she  almost  unconsciously 
drew  near  the  couch. 

"Now  the  blessing  of  the  God  of  heaven  be  on 
thee,  my  Isabel,  my  own  lost  and  beautiful  one," 
said  the  old  man  in  slow  but  unfaultering  tones, 
as  Alice  Weldon  advanced  towards  him.  I  knew 
thou  wouldst  not  forsake  us  altogether.  I  told 
thee,  William,  she  would  come  again  to  us, 
though  it  were  only  to  soothe  our  dying  moments 
Give  me  thy  hand,  my  sweet  daughter  Isabel, 
let  these  eyes  look  once  more  on  thee.  Ah,  once 
more,  for  surely  there  is  nothing  else  on  earth 
that  I  would  not  now  close  them  on  joyfully  and 
forever." 

Alice  cast  upon  the  other  a  glance  of  anxious 
inquiry,  as  she  placed  her  fair  hand  in  that  of  the 
aged  invalid.  But  there  was  nothing  there,  to 
check  her  amazement;  all  that  had  appeared 
strange  and  mysterious  in  the  exclamations  ot 
the  sufferer,  seemed  more  than  confirmed  in  his 


120  THE    REGICIDES. 

countenance.  The  old  man  still  continued  to 
gaze  wistfully  upon  her. 

"  Methinks  the  long  years  that  have  rolled  so 
wearily  over  us,  have  fallen  but  lightly  on  thee, 
my  noble  daughter.  I  am  old,  and  worn  with 
grief,  and  even  William's  dark  locks  are  sprinkled 
with  snow  ;  but  thou  dost  seem  more  young,  and 
far  more  blooming,  than  when  we  left  thee  in  the 
cave  of  the  mountain.  Say,  Isabel,  is  it  that 
thou  hast  wandered  free  and  happy  among  the 
fresh  breezes  of  the  earth,  that  thine  eye  is  so 
bright,  and  thy  cheek  so  blooming?  But  no — no, 
he  added  mournfully — it  cannot  be.  They  told 
me  that  my  Isabel  lay  in  the  dark  prisons  be 
yond  the  ocean."  And  he  closed  his  eyes  as  if  to 
shut  out  the  bewildering  image. 

A  tear  trembled  in  the  eye  of  Alice,  as,  with  a 
loqk  of  earnest  inquiry,  she  once  more  raised  it 
to  the  countenance  of  the  stranger.  "  Tell  me 
your  name,  young  maiden,"  exclaimed  the  latter 
in  a  voice  of  uncontrollable  emotion,  "  and  haply 
I  may  read  you  his  meaning." 

"  they  call  me  Alice  Weldon,"  replied  the 
trembling  girl,  while  a  strong  rush  of  associa 
tions  overpowered  her  spirit. 

44  Then  wonder  not  that  visions  of  that  be 
loved  one  are  kindled.  Thy  mother  was  his  own 
and  only  daughter,  and  thou  art  mine."  There 
was  a  moment  of  doubt — of  deep  incredulous 
wonder,  and  Alice  gazed  in  silence.  But  the 
springs  of  natural  affection  are  hidden  and  mys 
terious  ;  and  it  was  not  long  ere  she  threw  her 
arm  around  the  neck  of  him  whom  but  now 
she  had  deemed  a  stranger,  calling  him  her  fa 
ther,  and  weeping  over  him  with  wild  and  pas- 


THE    REGICIDES.  Ul 

sionate  tenderness,  as  if  from  her  earliest  child 
hood  she  had  loved  his  name. 

The  old  man  seemed  only  in  part  to  have  com 
prehended  the  recognition  that  had  taken  place ; 
and  his  thoughts  still  wandered  with  painful  earn- 
nestness,  to  the  memory  of  that  heroic  being 
whose  living  image  seemed  before  him.  "Oh 
I  had  prayed  that  I  might  see  her  again,"  he 
murmured  in  weak  and  sunken  tones,"  and  I  had 
forgotten  that  the  illusions  of  earth  are  not  yet 
over." 

Only  half  an  hour  had  elapsed  since  Alice  had 
departed  on  her  mysterious  expedition,  when  she 
again    found   herself  traversing  the  subterranean 
passage.     There  seemed  a  perfect  silence  within 
the  little  parlor  as  she  ascended  the  staircase,  only 
the  ticking  of  the  clock  was  plainly  perceptible. 
Mrs.  Ramsay  was  sitting   precisely  in    the  same 
place  as  when  she  had  left  her,  niul  close  beside 
her  was  Susan  whose; countenance  exhibited  the 
same   emotion  as  before,  save  that  there  was  an 
expression  of  even  deeper  terror  in  her  eye  as  it 
glanced  upon   the  opening  door.     Alice  instant 
ly  perceived,  that  during  her  absence,  the  party 
had  received  a  singular  addition.     On  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  fire  sat  a  stranger,  a  tall  and  ele 
gantly  proportioned  female.     She  wore  a  pelisse 
and  bonnet  of  rich  black  velvet,    and  a    ribbon 
of  the  same  hue,  fastened  around  her  throat  with 
a  small  diamond  clasp.     The  lady  had  evidently 
passed  the  noon   of  life  ;  and   here   and   there  a 
solitary  line  of  silver  mingled   among  the  dark 
hair  that  was  parted  on  her   forehead.     Her  face 
seemed  throughout  of  the  pure  and  colorless  tint 
of  marble;  and  so  perfectly  regular  was  the  con 
tour  of  her  features,  that  it  seemed  rather  like 
11 


122  THE    REGICIDES. 

some  exquisite  production  of  the  chisel,  than 
like  a  form  of  life  and  motion.  A  faint  smile 
lingered  on  her  lip ;  and  there  was  a  certain 
wildness  and  indescribable  sweetness  of  expres 
sion  in  the  brilliancy  of  her  soft  dark  eye,  as  it 
beamed  upon  the  admiring  Alice. 

The  young  lady  waited  a  moment,  as  if  for 
some  introduction  to  this  stranger,  but  there  was 
an  uninterrupted  silence;  and  a  meaning  glance 
at  that  moment  interchanged  between  Mrs.  Ram 
say  and  her  cousin,  suddenly  convinced  her  that 
she  was  to  them  an  object  of  aversion  and  fear. 
There  were  no  inquiries  as  to  the  success  of  her 
errand;  and  she  now  sat  down,  without  attempt 
ing  to  interrupt  the  awkward  silence. 

Several  minutes  had  elapsed,  and  Alice  was 
still  vainly  endeavoring  to  account  for  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  stranger  at  this  untimely  hour, 
when  a  sudden  and  startling  knock  on  the  out 
er  door  diffused  a  general  thrill  throughout  the 
company.  Susan  started  up  hastily,  and  seizing 
a  mantle  from  the  chair  beside  her,  stood  re 
solutely,  as  if  prepared  for  any  emergency. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  her  cousin  in 
surprise. 

"To  take  up  my  abode  with  Christian  people, 
for  the  night,  if  indeed  there  are  any  such  in  the 
vicinity.  No,  Alice,  you  need  not  urge  me," 
continued  the  young  lady  with  a  flush  of  indig 
nant  spirit,  "I  would  not  stay  in  this  house  ano 
ther  hour,  even  if  you  would  tie  around  my  neck 
that  golden  charm  which  gives  you  so  much 
courage.  Do  you  see,"  she  added  in  a  whisper 
to  Mrs.  Ramsay,  "  how  that  strange  being's  eye 
flashes  at  the  very  name  of  a  charm." 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  the  door,  Mrs.  Ram- 


THE    REGICIDES.  123 

say?"  continued  Alice,  without  replying  to  her 
cousin,  for  at  that  moment  another  loud  and  ra 
pid  knock  intimated  the  impatience  of  those 
without. 

"  Not  I,  ma'am,"  replied  the  resolute  dame, 
gathering  courage.  "  Gentle  or  simple,  they 
must  e'en  wait  till  morning — we've  queer  com 
ers  enough  for  the  night  already."  And  she 
cast  a  timid  and  suspicious  glance  upon  the 
stranger.  "At  least,"  she  added  in  an  under 
tone,  "if  worse  comes  to  worse,  there's  a  kind 
of  people  that  can  e'en  come  through  the  key 
hole." 

The  stranger  was  evidently  embarrassed,  she 
looked  earnestly  for  a  moment  upon  the  young 
ladies,  upon  each  alternately,  and  seemed  about 
to  speak;  but  a  third  knock,  more  violent  than 
either  of  the  preceding,  now  rang  through  the 
building. 

"It  is  a  bitter  night,  Mrs.  Ramsay," said  Alice, 
rising  hastily  and  seizing  a  light  from  the  shelf. 
It  would  sound  ill  too,  that  a  traveler  had  perish 
ed  at  the  minister's  door  for  want  of  a  hand  to 
open  it,"  and  casting  as  she  passed,  a  single  and 
earnestglance  upon  the  dark  eyed  stranger,  she  pro 
ceeded  through  the  narrow  hall  to  the  outer  door 
of  the  dwelling.  After  some  little  embarrass 
ment,  the  bar  was  at  length  removed,  the  key 
turned,  and  the  door  thrown  open. 

"For  the  love  of  mercy,"  exclaimed  a  tall  and 
closely  muffled  traveler,  who  stood  knocking  his 
boots  against  the  stones,  in  the  extremity  of  his 
impatience,  but  the  words  died  quickly  away; 
and  the  next  moment,  the  hand  of  Alice  Weldon 
was  grasped  in  his,  a  tone  of  joyful  greeting  rung 
in  her  ear,  and  he  who  had  dared  for  her  the  deep, 


124  THE    REGICIDES. 

and  the  dangers  of  a  foreign  clime,  and  the  pride 
and  grandeur  of  a  princely  court,  was  standing 
once  more  beside  her. 

"  And  now  do  I  claim  my  reward,"  cried  Hen 
ry  Davenport,  as  they  entered  the  parlor  together, 
for  Mrs.  Ramsay  and  Susan  had  made  good  their 
retreat ;  but  the  stranger  still  sat  by  the  fire. 

"The  condition,"  replied  the  young  lady  in  a 
low  and  agitated  voice,  her  eye  glancing  upon 
the  stranger  with  a  look  of  trembling  interest. 
A  bright  flush  was  kindling  on  that  pale  cheek, 
and  the  wild  and  joyful  meaning  of  that  beam 
ing  eye  was  no  longer  a  mystery.  The  next 
moment,  Alice  Weldon  lay  folded  in  that  lady's 
arms,  the  warm  tears  of  a  mother's  love  were 
on  her  cheek,  the  rich  music  of  a  mother's  voice 
fell  on  her  ear ;  and  dreams,  and  fears,  and  wish 
es,  were  all  faded  in  one  bright  reality.  The 
tale  of  mystery  was  soon  unravelled  ;  and  though 
the  kindness  which  had  sought  to  shield  her 
from  the  misfortunes  of  her  family  was  not  un 
appreciated,  a  tide  of  deeper  pleasure  filled  her 
spirit,  when  she  learned  that  he  who  had  that 
night  folded  her  in  a  father's  embrace,  was 
none  other  than  the  noble  outcast,  whose  sto 
ry  of  high  devotion  had  so  often  kindled  her 
fancy. 

Isabel  Goffe  had  not  in  vain,  sixteen  years 
since,  summoned  up  the  strength  of  woman's 
courage,  for  a  hopeless  and  almost  desperate 
effort.  Her  errand  across  the  deep  had  not 
been  in  vain.  Long  years  had  indeed  been 
wasted  in  the  silence  of  her  prison  walls,  until 
the  beautiful  and  smiling  infant  whose  memory 
had  gladened  its  loneliness,  could  scarcely  be  re 
cognized,  even  by  a  mother's  eye,  in  the  elegant 


THE    REGICIDES.  125 

and  graceful  being  who  now  hung  over  her.  But 
it  was  not  in  vain.  The  eloquence  of  the  wife  and 
daughter  at  last  prevailed  even  at  the  foot  of  the 
English  throne ;  and  she  now  came  with  an  assu 
rance  of  secret  pardon  to  the  sorrowing  exiles. 
Was  it  then  too  late  ?  Oh  no — it  was  a  moment 
worth  ages  of  the  heartless  existence  of  many  whom 
the  world  call  happy,  when  the  heroic  Isabel 
kneeled  that  night  in  the  lone  chamber  of 
death.  And  a  nobler  and  costlier  legacy  than 
the  gold  of  Peru,  was  in  those  words  of  blessing, 
with  which  the  tried  spirit  of  her  father,  at  last 
burst  away  free  and  happy  to  its  home  in  heaven, 

Three  months  after  these  occurrences,  the 
beautiful  house  and  grounds  of  the  deceased  Mrs. 
Wilmot,  were  purchased  by  an  English  gentle 
man  of  fortune,  recently  arrived  in  the  colony  of 
New-Haven.  Walter  Goldsmith,  (for  such  was 
the  name  of  the  new  comer,)  was  a  man  of  com 
manding  person  and  manners,  much  esteemed 
among  the  inhabitants  for  his  benevolence,  the 
high  and  pure  morality  of  his  life,  and  more  than 
all  for  those  strong  principles  of  holiness,  which 
evidently  formed  the  springs  of  his  existence.  He 
was  however  reserved,  and  somewhat  unsocial  in 
his  habits,  and  seemed  almost  exclusively  devoted 
to  the  happiness  of  an  extremely  amiable  and 
beautiful  wife,  who  had  accompanied  him  to  his 
new  residence. 

Little  was  known,  among  the  colonists,  of  the 
former  condition  of  the  emigrants.  They  were 
supposed,  however,  to  have  been  in  some  way 
connected  with  the  deceased  Mrs.  Wilmot,  as 
her  favorite  niece  resided  wholly  in  their  family. 
Alice  Weldon  indeed  addressed  them  by  the  en 
dearing  appellations  of  parents,  and  certainly 


126  THE    REGICIDES. 

there  are  few  stronger  attachments  than  that 
which  was  here  mutually  exhibited.  It  was  also 
noticed  by  some,  that  there  was  a  striking  simi 
larity  of  person  between  Miss  Weldon  and  her 
beautiful  adopted  mother.  The  mystery  however 
was  never  duly  investigated  ;  the  extreme  reserve 
of  Mrs.  Goldsmith's  manners  on  this  and  many 
other  subjects,  prevented  those  communications 
which  might  have  been  desired. 

Henry  Davenport  obtained,  the  ensuing  au 
tumn,  the  hand  of  the  lovely  Miss  Weldon;  but 
as  her  new  guardians  refused  to  be  separated  from 
the  object  of  their  affection,  he  concluded,  at 
their  earnest  solicitation,  to  establish  himself  be 
neath  the  same  roof. 

It  was  not  until  many  years  after,  when  at  the 
close  of  a  long  and  happy  life,  Walter  Goldsmith 
was  laid  by  the  grave  of  the  regicide,  and  only 
the  simple  initials,  W.  G.  appeared  on  the  rude 
tombstone  which  marked  his  resting  place,  that  a 
secret  report  prevailed  through  the  village,  that 
he  was  other  than  he  had  seemed,  and  that  the 
name  of  Goldsmith  had  long  concealed  among 
them  the  family  of  the  devoted  and  high  souled 
Goffe. 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 


THE 

FAIR    PILCiRIJI. 

CHAPTER  I. 


As  lovely  a  morning  as  ever  rose  on  the  loveli 
ness  of  an  English  village,  was  tinging,  with  its 
rosy  light,  the  cottages  and  magnificent  turrets 

that  adorned  the  valley  of  D .     Doubtless, 

to  some,  the  appellation  of  village  suggests 
only  the  picture  of  one  of  those  smiling  groups 
of  human  dwellings,  which  adorn  our  American 
landscapes, — nothing,  however,  could  differ  more 
widely  from  the  presentscene.  Not  only  the  castle, 
the  chapel,  and  the  shady  park  appeared  in  their 
ancient  grandeur,  as  the  monuments  of  aristocra 
tic  pride  and  power;  but  for  miles  around  the 
humble  cottages  of  the  villagers,  nay,  even  their 
inhabitants  were  nearly  all  only  so  many  appen 
dages  to  the  dignity  of  the  one  noble  family, 
whose  residence  graced  the  vale.  Among  the 
few  houses  which  appeared  to  maintain  an 
independent  existence,  there  was  one,  which, 
from  the  neatness  of  its  structure,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  surrounding  grounds,  was  well 
fitted  to  excite  attention.  It  was  situated  at 


130  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

a  considerable  distance  from  the  castle,  in  the 
midst  of  a  beautiful  coppice.  Behind  it  rose 
a  high,  wooded  bank,  and  the  verdure  which 
enameled  the  turf  in  the  shady  walk,  was  every 
where  enriched  and  deepened  by  the  meanderings 
of  a  brook,  whose  blue  wave,  here  and  there, 
gleamed  up  from  among  the  trees.  Every  cir 
cumstance  which  renders  rural  life  beautiful, 
seemed  here  to  exist  in  delightful  combination. 
Nature's  melody  was  not  wanting.  The  voices 
of  birds  were  uttered  low  and  sweet  from  the 
boughs,  the  bleating  of  lambs  on  the  hill,  the 
notes  of  a  thousand  bright  insects,  and  the  mur 
murs  of  the  little  brook,  all  came  on  the  ear  in 
rich  and  mingled  music.  The  house  was  of  wood, 
large  and  neatly  painted ;  but  the  ivy  which  had 
crept  over  the  porch,  and  the  moss  which  had 
here  and  there  overgrown  the  sloping  roof,  gave 
it  a  venerable  air. 

The  windows  of  one  of  the  front  apartments 
were  thrown  open,  and  amid  the  grateful  coolness 
which  pervaded  it,  several  elderly  men  of  dignified 
and  respectable  appearance  sat  eagerly  convers 
ing  together. 

"  Sir  Richard,  did  you  mention  aught  to  the 
king  concerning  the  charter  ?"  said  one  who  lean 
ed  upon  the  window  seat. 

"  The  subject,"  replied  the  baronet,  "  was  but 
slightly  touched  upon.  I  deemed  it  impolitic  to 
urge  the  matter  as  yet,  for  I  saw  that  the  im 
pious  Laud,  that  most  cruel  enemy  of  the  Puri 
tans,  watched  my  steps.  But  Strafford  is  on  our 
side.  He  cares  not  whether  we  die  or  prosper, 
so  he  doth  but  gain  gold  and  honor  for  himself. 
He  hath  promised  me  that  he  will  favor  our  peti- 
tition,  when  a  fitting  opportunity  presents.  Mean- 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.  131 

while,  my  brethren,"  continued  the  baronet,  "let 
us  render  thanksgiving  that  this  great  and  diffi 
cult  undertaking  of  ours,  doth  seem  so  nearly  ac 
complished.  The  proprietary  grant  hath  been 
easily  and  firmly  secured.  The  ships  are  pre 
pared  for  departure,  nnd  as  far  as  our  resources 
have  allowed,  fitted  out  with  all  things  needful 
for  so  perilous  a  journey.  All  that  remaineth  is 
that  you,  my  brethren,  do  gird  on  your  spiritual 
armor  and  go  forth  to  your  work." 

The  silence  which  succeeded  this  declaration 
remained  for  some  time  uninterrupted.  The 
emotions  it  had  excited  were  too  deep  for  words, 
and  each  spirit  seeme-l  qu-etly  searching  its  own 
mysterious  depths,  for  those  treasures  of  strength, 
and  that  holiness  of.  purpose,  which  their  noble 
enterprise  demanded. 

"It  is  time,  then,  that  the  day  of  departure 
should  be  appointed,"  said  one  after  some  minutes 
silence. 

"Three  days  from  this,  if  it  seems  fitting  to 
you  all,"  replied  vSir  "Richard  Saltonstall.  "  What 
say  you,  Endicott?'5 

"It  is  well,  S  r  Richard.  Our  plans  admit  of 
little  delay;  but,  Wilson,"  he  added,  turning  to 
the  gentleman  by  the  window,  "can  your  scat 
tered  flock  so  soon  be  gathered  together  ?" 

"They  are  all  at  this  rn<  ment,  apprised  of  a 
s-peedy  departure,  and  are,  T  doubt  not,  ready  for 
the  summons.  And  yet  not  all,"  he  continued 
hesitatingly,  "  One  tender  lamb  of  the  fold  is  as 
yet  ignorant  of  our  pnrp« 

"And  why?'  -.Claimed  the  baronet,  in  sur 
prise.  "  Wh--n  t!  «f  mercies  hath  open 
ed  so  clear  and  £  /nth  for  his  people, 
why  should  man  presume  to  veil  its  light  ? 


132  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

Reverend  Sir,  you  say  the  lamb  is  a  tender  one, 
will  you  leave  it  to  the  ravening  wolves  that  are 
now  spoiling  God's  heritage  ?" 

"  Sir  Richard,"  replied  the  clergyman  calmly, 
"she  of  whom  I  speak,  hath  stronger  ties  than  we 
to  bind  her  here.  As  for  us,  our  wives  and  our 
children  are  going  with  us  ;  but  she  must  leave 
kindred  as  well  as  home.  She  must  come  forth 
not  from  the  shadows  of  the  Presbyterian  faith,  but 
from  amid  the  clouds  and  darkness  of  this  pom 
pous  hierarchy.  Sir  Richard,  I  know  that  the 
lady  serves  God  in  purity  of  spirit,  and  her  heart 
is  with  his  people,  but  she  hath  been  bred  amid 
the  splendor  and  luxury  of  a  magnificent  home, 
and  the  first  spring  flower  is  not  more  frail  and 
delicate.  And  you  will  better  comprehend  my 
meaning,  when  I  tell  you  that  the  lady  Eveline, 
the  daughter  of  the  noble  Earl  who  dwells  in  yon 
der  castle,  is  the  one  of  whom  I  speak." 

There  was  an  expression  of  universal  surprise 
as  tne  clergyman  said  these  words.  "  But,  Wil 
son,"  exclaimed  Sir  Richard,  "  the  Earl,  her  father, 
is  the  friend  of  our  arch  enemy,  the  bigoted  and 
persecuting  primate.  Doth  he  permit  his  daugh 
ter  the  indulgence  of  her  religious  principles  ?" 

"  I  fear  not,"  replied  the  clergyman,  shaking 
his  head  sorrowfully.  "  The  lady  is  compelled  to 
join  in  rites  and  ceremonies  which  her  soul  ab 
hors,  and  I  have  often  heard  her  long  for  the  green 
pastures,  and  still  waters,  where  none  might  make 
her  afraid." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Endicott,  reproachfully,  "  you 
refused  to  lead  her  beside  them.  My  brother, 
you  have  done  what  to  my  feeble  vision  seems 
wrong.  You  should  have  told  the  lady  your 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 


purpose,  and  the  God  whom  she  hath  chosen, 
would  have  been  her  counselor." 

"I  have  perhaps  been  too  much  guided  by 
my  own  wisdom,"  replied  the  pastor,  "  and  God 
may  choose  to  prove  it  foolishness.  Brethren, 
do  you  counsel  me,  even  now,  to  apprise  the  lady 
of  our  departure?" 

"  We  do,  we  do,"  exclaimed  several  voices  at 
once.  "Heaven  will  point  to  her  the  path  in 
which  she  should  go?" 

"Then,"  continued  Mr.  Wilson,  "  I  will  this 
moment  forward  a  message  which  shall  convey  to 
her  the  necessary  intelligence.  Sir  Richard,  you 
know  the  lady  well.  \Viil  you  not  yourself  indite 
the  epistle  ?"  and  he  arranged  on  the  table  before 
him  the  materials  for  writing. 

"But,"  replied  Saltonstall,  "  is  there  any  one 
beneath  your  roof,  who  would  venture  to  place  it 
in  the  hand  of  the  Lady  Eveline  ?  The  task,  me- 
thinks  would  be  an  extremely  difficult  one." 

"  It  would,  Sir  Richard.  Nevertheless  I  will 
seek  to  provide  you  with  a  messenger.  There  is 
but  one  to  whom  I  could  trust  the  embassy," 
and  as  he  spoke  the  clergyman  left  the  apart 
ment. 

Just  as  the  baronet  had  completed  his  task,  a 
graceful  girl  with  a  sweet  and  modest  counte 
nance,  opened  the  door,  and  approached  with  a 
sort  of  hesitating  air  the  table  by  which  he  wrote. 
A  loose  scarf  was  thrown  over  her  neat  and  sim 
ple  dress,  and  a  bonnet  in  part  concealed  her 
features.  She  blushed,  and  paused  a  moment. 
"  My  father  told  me,  sir,  you  had  a  message  to 
one  of  the  ladies  of  the  castle.  Shall  I  carry  it 
thither?" 

"  Sir  Richard  was  folding  the  letter,  and  he 
12 


134  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

cast  on  her  a  benignant  glance.  "  Ellen  Wilson, 
you  are  kind  in  offering  to  perform  this  duty. 
But  have  you  ever  seen  the  noble  sisters  of  the 
castle?  For  remember,  you  must  p'ace  the  note 
in  the  lady  Eveline's  own  hand." 

"I  once  saw  them  both,"  replied  Ellen,  "it  is 
two  years  since,  but  I  can  remember  them  at  this 
moment  as  though  it  were  but  yesterday.  They 
had  lost  themselves  in  a  ramble  on  our  hill,  and 
I  led  them  through  the  coppice.  But  the  lady 
Eveline  was  much  taller  than  her  sister,  and  her 
tone  and  look  were  both  so  different  from  the 
other's,  I  am  sure  I  could  not  mistake  her  even 
now." 

"  And  do  not  return,  my  child,"  said  Sir  Rich 
ard,  as  he  placed  the  letter  in  her  hand,  "  until 
the  lady  hath  read  the  epistle,  for  she  will  doubt 
less  give  you  her  reply," 

The  heart  of  Ellen  Wilson  beat  with  an  un 
wonted  violence,  as  after  a  long  and  pleasant 
walk,  she  found  herself  standing  within  the  en 
closure  which  surrounded  the  castle.  Though 
her  whole  life  had  been  past  within  half  an  hour's 
walk  of  the  place,  she  had  never  but  once  before 
ventured  within  these  noble  domains,  and  that 
was  in  her  early  childhood.  The  mother  of  the 
noble  sisters,  who  had  now  long  slept  in  the  tomb, 
was  then  a  young  and  beautiful  matron  ;  and  the 
affectionate  kiss  which  she  had  here  imprinted  on 
the  cheek  of  the  little  wanderer,  was  at  this  mo 
ment  distinctly  remembered.  But  other  and 
more  agitating  reflections,  soon  presented  them 
selves.  Aside  from  the  appalling  grandeur  of  the 
place,  and  the  high  rank  of  those  upon  whom  she 
was  about  to  intrude,  the  heart  of  the  simple  girl 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.  135 

was  awed  with  the  recollection  of  her  errand,  and 
its  probable  effects. 

She  had  come  to  invite  the  daughter  of  that 
proud  Earl,  openly  to  renounce  the  faith  of  her 
lather,  her  rank,  her  home,  and  all  that  she  held 
dear,  and  to  become  a  pilgrim  to  a  distant  wilder 
ness.  But  it  was  no  time  for  iaultering  purposes; 
and  the  heart  of  Ellen  Wilson  had  lately  been 
taught  to  lay  aside,  together  with  the  indulgence 
of  earthly  hope,  that  fear  which  bringeth  a  snare, 
and  after  requesting  of  the  porter  who  opened  the 
inner  gate,  permission  to  speak  with  the  lady 
Eveline,  she  soon  found  herself  traversing  with 
haste,  the  immense  halls  of  the  castle.  These 
were  furnished  in  a  style  of  ancient  and  costly 
magnificence,  and  she  could  scarce  refrain  from 
pausing  to  return  the  gaze  of  the  fine  pictured 
countenances,  which  now  in  rapid  succession  met 
her  eye.  At  last  the  servant  paused,  and  throwing 
open  the  door  of  a  splendid  apartment  bade  her 
enter. 

A  hasty  glance  assured  her  that  she  was  not  yet 
in  the  presence  of  the  noble  inhabitants  of  the 
castle,  and  the  servant,  after  informing  her  that 
he  would  immediately  communicate  to  the  lady 
Eveline  her  request,  left  the  room  through  a  door 
which  commucicated  with  a  still  larger  apartment. 
For  the  moment  which  it  remained  open,  she  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  several  forms  within,  and 
the  sound  of  their  voices  at  the  same  time  met 
her  ear.  In  a  few  moments,  the  servant  again 
appeared. 

"The  lady  is  at  this  time  engaged.  Her  bro 
ther  and  the  Marquis  of  B have  just  returned 

from  London,  and  she  is  now  in  their  presence. 
In  less  than  an  hour,"  he  added,  "  she  may  be 


136  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

ready  to  see  you.  You  can  wait  for  her  in  this 
apartment." 

The  condition  seemed  so  slight  in  comparison 
with  an  entire  denial,  that  Ellen  concluded  with 
out  hesitation  to  accept  of  it.  Just  as  the  servant 
had  again  left  the  room,  a  sound  of  near  voices 
caused  her  to  raise  her  eye,  and  she  perceived 
with  surprise,  that  the  door  from  which  he  had 
last  entered,  still  remained  partly  open.  A  dis 
tinct  view  of  the  persons  within,  at  once  presented 
itself. 

The  lofty  walls  were  adorned  with  the  richest 
tapestry  which  ancient  art  could  produce.  Im 
mense  mirrors,  superb  sofas  and  tables,  the  rich 
damask  curtains,  all  burst  with  the  imposing  grace 
of  novelty  upon  her  bewildered  eye,  and  even  the 
pure  light  of  heaven  itself  seemed  to  have  caught 
a  strange  voluptuousness,  as  it  stole  in  rosy  beams 
through  the  richly  colored  glass. 

An  elderly  man  whom  Ellen  at  once  recognised 
as  the  proprietor  of  this  noble  dwelling,  was  near 
one  of  the  windows.  On  the  same  sofa  sat  a 
young  cavalier  gaily  and  fashionably  dressed,  and 
another  still  whom  she  knew  to  be  the  young  heir 
of  D ,  was  pacing  the  floor. 

But  objects  of  far  higher  interest  than  these, 
soon  met  her  eye.  Seated  on  a  low  sofa  in  a 
distant  part  of  the  room,  the  two  beautiful  ladies 
of  the  castle  appeared,  engaged  in  that  branch  of 
needle-work  which  was  then  deemed  a  meet  oc 
cupation,  for  females  of  high  rank  and  fortune. 
They  were  both  apparently  very  young  and  from 
any  thing  in  their  appearance,  it  would  have 
been  difficult  to  have  determined  which  was  the 
elder.  One  was  taller  and  fairer  than  the  other, 
and  as  her  head  bent  over  the  embroidery  frame} 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.  137 

the  bright  brown  hair,  parted  away  from  behind, 
fell  curling  beautifully  over  the  snowy  arch  of  her 
long  and  graceful  neck.  There  was  a  fresh  bloom 
on  the  cheek  of  both  the  maidens,  but  that  on  the 
countenance  of  the  taller  was  not  so  vivid  as  the 
other's,  and  her  lip  too  had  a  pale  and  rosy  hue 
in  comparison  with  the  full  bright  coral  of  her 
sister's,  and  in  her  eye,  and  on  her  brow,  and 
over  her  whole  mien,  there  were  the  marks  of  an 
unfettered  and  noble  spirit,  which  Ellen  knew  to 
be  none  other  than  the  lady  Eveline's. 

The  voice  of  the  Earl  now  caught  her  attention. 

"  Any  more  news,  at  court,  my  son?  The  puri- 
ritans — how  prosper  they  ?  Hath  our  worthy  pre 
late  given  any  new  proofs  of  zeal  against  these 
heretics  ?" 

"No,  but  Charles  has  given  new  proofs  of  his 
folly,"  replied  the  youth  hastily.  "It  is  rumored 
that  to  the  most  hypocritical  and  ranting  get  of 
them  all,  he  is  about  to  convey  a  charter  transfer 
ring  the  powers  of  government  from  the  Grand 
Council  of  Plymouth  to  the  colonists  themselves." 

"  What  colonists,  what  mean  you,  George?" 
rejoined  the  Earl  with  a  look  of  impatient  sur 
prise.  "  Do  you  speak  of  the  Plymouth  colony ?" 

"No,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  young  Marquis, 
"  he  refers  to  a  more  extensive  scheme  of  folly 
which  Sir  Richard  Saltonsall  has  lately  project 
ed.  It  seems  that  the  honest  puritans  are  at 
length  wearied  of  the  good  offices  of  the  Arch 
bishop,  and  intend  making  their  escape  to  Ame 
rica,  to  join  their  Plymouth  brethren.  Saltonstall 
has  lately  purchased  a  large  tract  of  the  Grand 
Council  and  is  about  to  despatch  thither  a  fresh 
cargo  of  hypocrites." 

"And  why,"  rejoined  the  Earl  angrily,  "is  the 
12* 


138  THE    FAIR    PILGRIM. 

Duke  of  Lenox  so  desirous  of  establishing  this 
hated  religion  in  the  very  heart  of  his  pos 
sessions?  One  would  think  the  colony  already 
there,  enough  to  give  a  godly  savor  to  the  land.'* 

"Ah,"  replied  the  young  nobleman  "I  believe 
the  council  are  quite  in  despair  concerning  their 
great  territories,  and  willing  to  part  with  them 
as  they  best  can,"  but  continued  he,  "  my  Lord 
you  need  not  fear  their  increase.  You  could  not 
have  placed  them  in  a  better  place.  If  all  tales 
are  true,  the  bears  and  Indians  will  soon  cool  their 
enthusiasm.  I  fancy  the  Archbishop  himself 
could  never  have  found  a  more  effectual  method." 

"You  say  truly,"  replied  the  Earl  with  bitter 
ness.  "  A  better  place  could  not  have  been 
found  for  them  ;  and  when  you  have  dealt  as 
long  with  these  stubborn  rebels  as  myself,  you 
will  not  need  to  be  told  that  the  more  they  are 
persecuted,  the  more  they  flourish." 

"  And  may  not  this,  my  father,  indicate  the 
goodness  of  their  cause  ?"  said  the  lady  Eveline, 
as  she  raised  her  flushed  countenance  from  her 
work. 

''  A  thousand  pardons,  my  blessed  little  puri 
tan,"  exclaimed  her  brother,  hastily  approaching 
her.  "I  certainly  forgot  your  presence.  And 
you,  my  Lord,"  he  continued  turning  to  the 
young  nobleman,  "  come  and  kneel,  as  you  val 
ue  the  lady's  favor." 

A  frown  of  displeasure  at  the  same  time  gather 
ed  on  the  countenance  of  the  Earl.  "  A  young 
female  who  is  wiser  than  all  her  relatives,  is  sure 
ly  an  object  worthy  of  admiration  ;  but,  Eveline, 
why  not  place  the  climax  to  your  devotion  by 
joining  this  pious  pilgrimage  ?" 

"And  if  I  should,"  replied  the  lady  calmly, 


THE    FAIR    PILGRIM.  139 

"I  should  only  exhibit  a  f;ir  less  noble  example 
of  devotedness,  than  did  those  holy  females  who 
are  already  enduring  the  hardships  of  the  wil 
derness." 

"But  surely,  Lady  Eveline,"  said  the  Marquis, 
"  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  favor  the 
opinions  of  the  Puritans  ?" 

"Even  more;"  replied  the  lady  while  a  pale 
blush  suffused  her  countenance,  "  I  have  made 
their  opinions  my  own." 

"  And  it  is  a  part  of  your  religion,  I  presume," 
exclaimed  her  father  angrily,  "  to  disgrace  those 
who  have  the  misfortune  to  be  connected  with 
you,  by  the  avowal  of  your  creed." 

The  indignant  glow  of  a  proud  spirit  for  a 
moment  colored  the  lady's  cheek,  but  there 
was  evidently  some  controlling  principle  within, 
which  forbade  the  indulgence  of  earthly  pas 
sions  ;  for  ere  she  had  essayed  to  reply  to  her 
father's  words,  the  flush  was  gone,  and  instead  of 
it  a  smile  of  heavenly  sweetness,  such  as  became 
a  follower  of  the  "  lowly  in  heart."  "  I  cannot, 
my  father,  indeed,  I  cannot  refuse  a  portion 
of  the  obloquy  which  rests  upon  my  religion. 
Would  it  not  be  ungenerous,  for  me  to  deny  my 
principles,  because  I  feared  the  disgrace  attach 
ed  to  them  ?" 

"  I  admire  the  Lady  Eveline's  spirit,"  exclaim 
ed  the  young  Marquis  witii  animation.  "I  deem 
it  unfair,  my  Lord,  to  quarrel  with  any  religion 
whose  precepts  distil  upon  us  in  such  gentle 
glances  and  from  such  lips  as  just  now  pleaded 
for  the  puritans.  I  fear  I  shall  become  a  puritan 
myself,  if  I  linger  long  in  this  fair  presence.  Say 
George,  is  it  not  dangerous  ?" 

"Disturb  me  not,"  said  the  youth,  in  a  tone  of 


140  THE    FAIR  PILGRIM. 

affected  pathos,  as  he  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  lady,  "I  am  even  now  painting  to  my 
self  the  form  of  the  fair  devotee  wandering  about 
among  the  caves  and  mountains  of  the  new  world. 
But,  my  beloved  sister  :hou  must  lay  aside  the 
needle  from  those  small  and  lily  hands  of  thine, 
for  to  my  best  knowledge  the  heroines  of  Ameri 
ca  do  wield  the  hoe  instead  thereof,  and  thou 
must  doff  that  costly  robe,  simple  and  plain 
though  it  be,  did  not  the  martyrs  of  old  wander 
forth  in  sheep  skins,  and  goat  skins?  And  that 
coronal  of  pearls,  that  shines  so  brightly  among 
thy  tresses,  it  is  not  good.  Do  we  not  hear  of 
the  holy  women  of  old,  how  they  sought  to  adorn 
themselves  not  with  gold  and  pearls  and  costly 
array" — 

"  Would  to  heaven,  George,"  exclaimed  the 
lady  interrupting  him,  "  that  I  had  instead  there 
of  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,"  and 
then  again  repressing  the  bright  crimson  which 
mantled  her  cheek,  she  bent  her  head  over  the 
frame  to  conceal  the  tear  of  wounded  feeling. 

But  there  appeared  to  Ellen  something  pecu 
liarly  touching  in  the  idea  which  the  young  no 
bleman  had  expressed  in  such  tones  of  irony. 
There  was  a  frailty,  an  exquisite  delicacy  in  the 
form  and  features  of  the  noble  girl  and  an  air  of 
elegance  in  her  simple  and  costly  attire,  which 
seemed  all  unmeet  for  the  trials  which  she  doubt 
ed  not  would  soon  be  her  portion. 

The  Lady  Julia  had,  till  now,  borne  no  part 
in  this  agitating  conversation  ;  but  on  catching 
a  sudden  glimpse  of  her  sister's  moistened  eye,  a 
look  of  tenderness  lighted  her  countenance.  "I 
pray  you  forgive  us,  my  noble  brother,"  she  ex 
claimed,  looking  coldly  upon  the  young  Lord, 


THE    FAIR    PILGRIM.  141 

"  if  we  do  not  duly  admire  your  costly  politeness. 
My  sister  and  myself  have  H-ved  much  in  retire 
ment  of  late,  and  scarce  know  how  to  appreciate 
the  lofty  polish  which  the  court  of  Charles  has 
given  you.  I  pray  you  forgive  us."  The  beau 
tiful  lip  of  the  young  lady  curled  with  an  expres 
sion  of  disdain  and  after  speaking  a  moment  to 
her  sister  in  a  low  voice,  they  rose  together  and 
left  the  apartment. 

There  was  silence  for  several  moments,  after 
the  door  had  closed  upon  them,  and  when  at 
length  it  was  interrupted  by  the  Earl  ;  the  voice 
was  so  low  that  Ellen  could  scarcely  distinguish 
his  words.  She  was  just  indulging  in  a  feeling 
of  secret  impatience,  when  the  sound  of  a  light 
tread  caught  her  ear,  and  turning,  she  beheld  ap 
proaching  from  a  distant  door,  the  tall,  light  fig 
ure  of  the  Lady  Eveline.  She  came  close  to  the 
blushing  girl  and  her  tone  was  low  and  sweet. 

"  I  was  told  that  you  waited  to  speak  with  me, 
young  maiden.  Am  I  mistaken  ?  But  if  it  is 
aught  of  a  private  nature,"  she  added,  casting 
a  sudden  glance  at  the  open  door,  while  Ellen 
hastened  to  present  the  letter,  "  this  is  no  fit 
ting  place  for  it.  Will  you  come  with  me  ?" 
Ellen  rose,  and  after  following  the  footsteps  of 
the  young  lady  through  ;i  long  suite  of  apart 
ments,  they  stood  at  last  in  an  elegant  reading 
room,  the  favorite  resort  of  the  young  Eveline. 
"And  now  you  may  speak  freely,"  she  said,  as 
she  placed  her  chair  by  the  side  of  a  small  ma 
hogany  table  at  the  same  time  seating  herself 
near  her,  "  I  believe  I  know  you  already.  Are 
you  not  Ellen  Wilson — the  same  who  once  gave 
us  such  a  fine  ramble  in  the  coppice?5' 

Ellen  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  placed  the 


142  THE    FAIR    PILGRIM. 

letter  of  Sir  Richard  in  her  hand.  The  lady  un 
folded  it,  and  glanced  slowly  over  its  contents. 
But  as  she  proceeded,  a  new  and  sudden  light 
seemed  to  kindle  in  her  blue  eye,  the  paleness  of 
her  brow  extended  itself  over  the  whole  counte 
nance.  And  when,  at  length,  she  slowly  folded 
it  again  with  an  appearance  of  assumed  compo 
sure  so  colorless  was  her  lip  and  cheek,  that  El 
len  feared  each  moment  to  see  her  fall  fainting 
from  her  chair.  But  still  the  paper  remained  in 
her  hand,  and  she  seemed  pressing  its  folds  with 
greater  exactness.  "  Madam,  the  news  which 
this  letter  conveys  are  sudden  and  strange.  It 
has  come  upon  me  unawares.  My  faith  is  weak, 
and  1  dreamed  not  that  it  would  so  soon  be  put 
to  the  test.  Three  days  from  this,  if  I  read  aright, 
the  pilgrims  set  sail.  The  time  is  short — too 
short  for  all  I  have  to  do.  I  fear,  Ellen  Wilson, 
I  cannot  so  soon  give  up  all  I  love." 

"You  need  not,  dear  lady,"  said  Ellen,  in  a 
timid  voice,  "He  whom  you  have  not  long  loved 
better  than  all  others,  will  still  be  with  you. 
Lady  Eveline  is  not  his  grace  sufficient  for  you?" 

"Surely,  Ellen,  your  father  is  of  the  puri 
tans,"  replied  the  lady  gazing  with  admiration 
upon  her  fresh  and  smiling  countenance.  "And 
you  are  going  forth  to  danger  and  suffering  with 
a  cheerful  spirit.  Oh  that  I  also  might  have 
grace  to  do  the  will  of  my  heavenly  Father  joy 
fully. 

There  was  an  expression  of  agony  on  the  pale 
face  of  the  noble  maiden,  and  Ellen  dared  not 
witness  that  fearful  conflict  of  feeling.  "Lady," 
she  said,  "  God  himself  will  make  you  know  your 
duty.  Methinks  it  cannot  be  his  will  that  you 
should  thus  abandon  your  home  and  kindred." 


THE    FAIR    PILGRIM.  143 

There  was  still  another  pause,  and  then  the  la 
dy  rose.  "Ellen  Wilson,  come  to  me  again  to 
morrow  evening  at  sunset,  and  I  will  tell  you  my 
decision."  Ellen  felt  the  pressure  of  her  hand 
in  parting,  it  was  cold  and  moist,  and  trembled 
violently ;  she  could  scarcely  refrain  from  tears, 
as  she  followed  the  servant  through  the  long  and 
splendid  apartments,  and  remembered  the  agony 
of  their  beautiful  mistress. 


CHAPTER  II. 


"  Their  dauntless  hearts  no  meteor  led 

In  terror  o'er  the  ocean, 
From  fortune  and  from  fame  they  fled 
To  heaven  and  its  devotion." 

THE  alarming  paleness  which  the  countenance 
of  the  Lady  Eveline  exhibited  during  the  remain 
der  of  the  day,  was  a  subject  of  much  remark  in 
the  castle  ;  and  the  bitterness  with  which  the 
young  Marquis  reproached  her  brother  for  his  un 
kind  jesting,  showed  that  his  interest  in  the  lady's 
peace  was  of  a  peculiar  nature.  What  rendered 
her  melancholy  still  more  touching,  was  an  ap 
parent  and  studied  effort  on  her  part  to  appear 
with  her  usual  cheerfulness. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day,  the  lady 
after  having  with  much  difficulty  escaped  from 
the  gay  company  below,  appeared  pacing  with  a 
quick  and  agitated  step  the  floor  of  that  lofty  gal 
lery  which  terminated  in  the  sleeping  apartment 
of  the  sisters.  The  time  which  had  been  ap 
pointed  for  making  known  her  decision  was  al 
most  arrived,  and  as  yet  nothing  but  a  succession 
of  dark  and  agonized  feelings  had  crossed  her 
mind — an  indistinct  impression  of  stern  duty 
urging  her  to  the  renunciation  of  every  earthly 
hope.  But  she  felt  that  it  was  wrong — it  was 
not  what  the  mighty  decision  before  her  demand- 


THE    FAIR    PILGRIM.  145 

€d ;  and  she  now  entered  her  apartment  and 
closed  the  door  with  a  firm  resolution  that  she 
would  calmly  and  dispassionately  listen  to  the 
still  small  voice  of  truth,  and  come  no  more  out, 
until  she  had  fully  resolved  whether  the  earth  was 
henceforth  to  be  to  her  a  wilderness,  and  the 
voice  of  sister,  kindred,  and  the  home  of  her 
childhood,  with  all  the  hopes  of  a  gay  and  beauti 
ful  imagination,  were  henceforth  to  be  to  her  but 
as  remembered  dreams.  The  lady  felt  that  her  soul 
was  weakened  with  the  pressure  of  sorrow,  and 
she  sought  for  a  portion  of  the  undying  energy  of 
Him  who  "  fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary."  And 
was  it  for  her  to  withold  from  God  the  influence 
of  her  high  name,  was  it  for  her,  in  the  pride  of 
human  greatness,  to  turn  away  from  Him  who  now 
spake  as  it  were  from  heaven,  demanding  the  ex 
ample  of  her  faith,  her  exertions  and  her  whole 
life  for  the  honor  of  his  despised  and  afflicted 
church,  whose  name  was  a  reproach  among  her 
people  ?  And  was  it  for  her  on  whom  the  deep 
vow  was  resting,  to  live  not  for  herself  nor  for 
the  few  fleeting  days  of  time,  but  for  the  vast, 
shadowless  and  immortal  existence  beyond, — was 
it  for  her  to  cling  with  fond  affection  around  the 
elegances  and  endearments  of  her  home  ? — that 
home  too  where  her  religion  was  a  by-word  and 
whose  strong  influences  were  hourly  urging  her 
from  heaven  and  holiness? 

The  prayer  had  not  been  vainly  said,  and  amid 
weeping  and  untold  agony,  the  beautiful  lady  of 

D at  last  resolved   to   give  up  all  for  God. 

And  now  a  light  burst  in  upon  her  spirit,  calm  and 
peaceful  as  the  light  of  heaven.  She  thought  of 
her  sister,  her  beloved  Julia,  dearer  to  her  than 
her  own  soul,  her  motherless  sister;  she  thought 
13 


146  THE    FAIR    PILGRIM. 

of  her  as  the  companion  of  her  childhood,  the 
friend  of  her  youth,  and  all  around  her  were  me 
morials  of  their  love.  Her  eye  glanced  over  the 
apartment  which  for  long  years  they  had  shared 
together,  and  she  thought  of  the  ocean  which 
would  soon  roll  between  their  pillows.  But  the 
agony  which  for  a  moment  dimmed  her  eye, 
caused  no  faultering  of  purpose ;  and  the  fra 
grance  of  her  bruised  and  broken  affections  only 
arose  in  richer  sacrifice  to  the  will  of  heaven. 

She  thought  of  an  eternal  farewell  to  the  home 
of  her  childhood,  of  a  father's  and  brother's  lust 
embrace  ;  and,  not  least  of  all,  was  remembered 
the  surrender  she  was  to  make  of  the  affections 
of  the  high  bom  and  generous  youth  now  in  the 
castle,  whose  tones  and  glances  had  so  often  as 
sured  her  of  his  love.  But  still  there  was  no  faul 
tering  of  purpose.  The  heart  of  the  maiden  did 
not  refuse  to  suffer  affliction  with  the  people  of 
God  ;  for  she  remembered  One  who  for  her  sake 
had  undergone  deeper  sorrows  than  these.  Nei 
ther  were  the  dark  nights  of  tempest  on  the  ocean 
forgotten,  nor  the  untold  horrors  of  famine,  sick 
ness  and  death  on  that  distant  shore, — but  a 
courage  not  her  own,  imbued  her  spirit. 

The  trial  was  almost  over,  and  now  there  came 
to  the  kindled  and  enlightened  fancy  of  the 
young  Christian,  dreams  of  unutterable  blessed 
ness,  bright  visions  from  the  calm  and  distant 
homes  which  God  prepares  for  those  that  love 
him,  and  the  embrace  of  an  endearing  love, 
stronger  than  death,  and  though  she  knew 
that  instead  of  the  high  and  joyful  enthusiasm 
which  the  sublimity  of  her  resolution  had  impart- 
ted,  in  place  of  this  glad  victory  of  holy  feelings 
there  would  come  the  hour  of  long  ungladened 


THE    FAIR    PILGRIM.  147 

and  painful  exertions,  still  her  soul  was  comforted 
with  the  thought  of  bcr  last  glorious  rest  in  heav 
en.  The  long  vista  of  futurity  seemed  open  be- 
"fore  her,  and  with  a  kindling  eye  she  trod  the 
apartment,  till  the  might  and  grandeur  of  earth 
had  passed  away,  and  the  lofty  halls  of  her  fa 
thers  crumbled  with  years,  and  the  ivy  and  the 
moss  had  mantled  their  ruins,  and  she  beheld  a 
free  and  glorious  nation  bright  with  the  light  of 
heaven's  own  truth,  planted  by  the  exertions  of 
that  pilgrim  band,  who  now,  amid  weakness  and 
sorrow  and  fear,  were  about  to  traverse  the  deep. 
Surely  a  low  grave  among  them  on  that  dis 
tant  shore,  was  far  more  noble  than  a  resting 
place  in  the  tombs  of  her  ancestors. 

The  light  of  the  setting  sun  was  already  stray 
ing  through  the  crimson  curtains,  when  the  La 
dy  Eveline  remembered  her  request  to  Ellen  Wil 
son,  and  determining  to  go  forth  and  meet  her 
in  the  avenue,  she  hastened  to  prepare  herself 
for  her  walk.  She  had  already  crossed  the  gal 
lery,  and  was  descending  the  superb  staircase 
which  led  to  the  outer  hall,  when  a  glimpse  of 
the  young  Marquis  leaning  thoughtfully  against 
the  entrance  arrested  her  steps.  She  wished  to 
avoid  him,  but  it  was  too  late.  He  had  caught 
a  view  of  her,  and  now  demanded  the  privilege 
of  accompanying  her  in  her  walk.  The  lady  was 
embarrassed,  she  could  not  refuse,  and  they  de 
scended  together  through  the  winding  avenue 
which  led  from  the  castle. 

"  You  are  surely  well  again,  my  Lady,"  said  the 
Marquis,  glancing  with  surprise  on  her  counte 
nance  now  lighted  up  with  a  glow  and  brightness 
altogether  unusual.  There  were  still  traces  ol 
tears  on  her  cheek,  her  eye  beamed  with  the 


148  THE    FAIR    PILGRIM. 

fervor  of  intense  feeling,  and  a  smile  of  that 
peace  which  the  world  cannot  give  played  on 
her  lip. 

Here  was  an  object  which  of  all  others,  hu 
man  love  clings  to  most  tenderly,  arid  the  im 
passioned  words  which  the  young  nobleman  ut 
tered,  showed  that  his  heart  confessed  its  power. 

The  lady  had  desired  earnestly  that  this  bitter 
trial  might  be  spared  her;  for  it  was  too  true 
that  there  had  been  moments,  when  she  had 
dreamed,  even  in  this  very  avenue,  of  giving 
her  young  heart  with  all  its  affections  to  him  who 
now  so  earnestly  solicited  it,  and  beautiful  had 
the  long  life  before  her  seemed,  when  she  had 
thought  of  devoting  it  to  his  happiness.  But  this 
was  all  over.  She  knew  that  he  was  in  heart  a 
hater  of  the  puritans  and  a  despiser  of  their  faith, 
and  that  however  his  young  affection  for  her 
might  now  soften  his  feelings  of  contempt  for  her 
religion,  such  affection  was  but  a  broken  reed  to 
lean  upon — all  was  over — and  now  some  other  love 
must  brighten  the  grandeur  of  his  princely  home. 

She  had  told  the  Marquis  of  this,  with  a  noble 
firmness  ;  and  they  were  leaning  silently  upon 
the  gate,  watching  the  brilliant  and  fading 
hues  of  the  western  clouds,  when  the  form  of 
Ellen  Wilson  approaching  the  remote  extremi 
ty  of  the  avenue  drew  their  attention.  Her  eye 
was  fixed  upon  them  and  she  seemed  in  doubt 
whether  to  approach. 

"  Yonder  girl  has  a  message  for  me,  my  Lord," 
exclaimed  Eveline,  opening  the  gate,  "  I  must 
leave  you  for  a  moment  to  receive  her  errand." 

"What  message  shall  I  bear  to  my  father's 
house?"  said  Ellen  as  the  lady  approached  her, 


THE    FAIR    PILGRIM.  149 

•I 

*' there  are  many  there,  anxiously  awaiting  your 
decision." 

"  Say  that  I  will  go  with  them,"  replied  the 
lady,  calmly.  "Ellen,  at  what  hour  do  we  leave 
the  valley?" 

"  At  eleven,  my  lady,  and  at  two  we  sail.  The 
moon  will  be  bright,  and  ere  the  morning  dawns, 
we  shall  have  gone  far  on  our  long  way.  And 
my  father  bade  me  tell  you  also,  that  if  you  had 
aught  to  carry  with  you,  it  must  this  evening  be 
conveyed  to  the  ship.  If  you  will  send  it  to  the 
cottage,  Lady,  it  shall  be  safely  done." 

"  It  is  well — it  is  well,"  repeated  Eveline,  with 
quickness,  endeavoring  to  subdue  some  painful 
emotions.  "At  eleven,  Ellen,  I  will  be  in  your 
father's  cottage.  Is  there  aught  else  ?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Ellen,  but  she  turned  a 
moment  with  a  glistening  eye,  "only  dear  lady, 
God  will  bless  those  who  love  him,  better  than 
father,  and  sister,  and  houses;  and  lands,  and  I 
know  you  will  be  blessed  when  you  have  forsaken 
them  all  for  his  sake." 

The  ties  of  Christian  love  are  strong ;  and  the 
high  born  lady  bent  to  kiss  the  lip  of  one,  who 
was  henceforth  to  be  her  sister,  and  the  compan 
ion  of  her  pilgrimage. 

The  Marquis  still  waited  for  her  at  the  gate  ; 
and  after  pursuing  their  walk  a  little  farther  on 
the  lawn,  they  returned  to  the  castle.  Eveline 
immediately  retired  to  her  dressing  room  for  the 
purpose  of  making  the  necessary  preparation  for 
her  voyage.  This  was  quickly  done.  From  the 
mass  of  rich  dresses  which  her  wardrobe  con 
tained,  a  box  of  her  simplest  clothing  was  soon  se 
lected;  and  this,  with  another  containing  a  few 
choice  books  and  letters,  a  small  portrait  of  her 
13* 


150  THE    FAIR    PILGRIM. 

mother  and  sister,  and  a  casket  of  costly  gems-, 
the  gift  of  her  father,  and  of  themselves  suffi 
cient  to  purchase  the  supply  of  her  future  wants, 
was  all  that  this  noble  heiress  chose  for  her  por 
tion,  from  the  boundless  wealth  of  her  father.  Af 
ter  this  painful  duty  was  accomplished,  she  di 
rected  a  servant  to  convey  them  to  the  cottage  at 
the  foot  of  the  coppice,  and  in  a  few  moments 
after,  she  descended  to  the  sitting-room  below. 

The  Lady  Julia  was  this  evening  splendidly 
dressed,  and  to  the  eye  of  her  sister  she  had 
never  looked  more  lovely,  her  voice  too  thrilled 
with  affection's  music,  and  every  tone  seemed  to 
bury  itself  in  her  spirit.  Her  father  and  brother 
were  there,  and  unkind  though  they  had  often 
been,  the  heart  of  the  Lady  Eveline  was  not  one 
in  which  such  ties  could  be  lightly  severed,  and 
every  time  she  met  their  glance,  or  heard  their 
voices  addressing  her,  a  tear  would  involuntarily 
tremble  in  her  eye,  that  she  whom  they  looked 
upon  as  daughter  and  sister,  would  soon  be  to 
them  as  a  forgotten  exile. 

The  gay  Marquis  appeared  this  evening 
strangely  melancholy ;  and  when  at  length  the 
young  ladies  arose  to  retire,  he  accompained 
them  to  the  door.  A  hasty  summons  from  a  dis 
tant  estate  had  just  arrived,  and  as  he  was  to  leave 
the  castle  early  the  ensuing  morning,  he  availed 
himself  of  this  opportunity  to  bid  them  adieu. 

The  Lady  Julia's  compliments  were  uttered  in 
that  easy  and  graceful  manner  which  the  slight- 
ness  of  the  occasion  seemed  to  demand  ;  but  her 
sister,  for  a  moment,  appeared  singularly  em 
barrassed.  Her  cheek  at  once  became  deadly 
pale  and  then  the  blood  mounting  suddenly,  gave 
it  so  rosy  a  tinge,  that  Julia  gazed  upon  her  in  sur- 


THE  FAIR    PILGRIM.  151 

prise.     ".Sister,  shall  we  go?"  she  said,   gently 
drawing  her  away. 

"Farewell,  Lady  Eveline,"  exclaimed  the  Mar 
quis.  All !  that  farewell,  he  dreamed  not  that 
it  was  forever. 

But  the  door  was  closed.  Eveline  felt  they 
were  to  meet  no  more  on  earth,  and  she  was  now 
almost  unconsciously  traversing  the  hull  with  her 
sister's  arm  in  hers. 

The  following  morning  was  spent  by  the  Lady 
Eveline  in  the  solitude  of  her  reading  room.  She 
was  principally  engaged  in  writing  an  affection 
ate  letter  to  her  father,  in  which  she  prayed  for 
the  continuance  of  his  affection,  his  forgiveness 
and  blessing,  when  she  should  be  far  away  on  her 
lonely  exile,  and  another  of  exquisite  tenderness, 
addressed  to  her  sister,  in  which  she  laid  open  to 
her  all  her  sorrows,  and  told  her  of  the  stern  con 
flict  of  duty  and  feeling;  and  besought  her  by 
all  the  tenderness  of  their  early  love  to  remem 
ber  her  until  death.  The  letters  were  both  mois 
tened  with  many  tears,  ere  they  were  consigned 
to  their  temporary  concealment. 

The  day  stole  rapidly  away,  like  the  other  days 
of  earth;  noontide,  sunset,  and  the  fading  twi 
light  \vere  all  gone,  and  now  amid  the  shadows 
of  the  starry  evening,  the  moon  was  just  lifting  her 
unclouded  light.  As  it  first  began  to  gleam 
through  the  windows  of  the  castle,  the  Lady 
Eveline  was  slowly  walking  along  the  wide  galle 
ry,  while  her  sister  still  lingered  a  moment  in  the 
dressing  room,  to  complete  the  arrangement  of 
her  toilet.  Far  different  were  their  reflections. 
When  that  light  which  now  fell  from  the  lofty 
windows  of  the  gallery  upon  the  form  of  Eveline 
should  fade  away  in  the  grey  beams  of  morning, 


152  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

— oh  where  would  she  be  then?  The  thoughts 
that  overpowered  her  heart  were  too  bitter  for 
endurance,  and  she  hastily  approached  the  door 
of  the  dressing  room. 

"Dear  Julia  are  you  not  ready  yet?  Methinks 
you  are  long." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,  Eveline,"  replied  the  other 
in  a  half  vexed  and  half  sportive  tone,  "  I  have 
been  lecturing  this  awkward  curl  these  fifteen 
minutes,  and  it  will  not  mind  me.  See  how  un 
gracefully  it  falls!  And  do  you  know  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  company  below  this  evening,  and 
the  young  French  Count  that  George  has  told  us 
so  much  of?  There,  Eveline,  does  it  look  bet 
ter?"  and  as  she  spoke  she  held  the  lamp  to  her 
face  and  turned  full  upon  her  sister. 

"  You  look  well,  very  well,"  replied  Eveline, 
almost  unconscious  of  what  she  said,  while  she 
gazed  upon  the  countenance  of  the  lovely  young 
lady.  "  Yes,  you  look  very,  very  beautiful,"  con 
tinued  her  sister,  gazing  wildly  upon  her. 

"  So  then  you  are  laughing  at  me,"  replied 
Julia,  blushing  and  placing  the  lamp  again  on 
the  dressing  table.  "I  shall  never  ask  you  again, 
if  I  am  becomingly  dressed." 

"No,  no,"  thought  Eveline,  "never." 

"But,  sister,  upon  my  word  no  one  can  accuse  you 
of  vanity,"  continued  the  young  lady.  "I  do  not 
believe  you  have  looked  in  your  mirror  since 
morning.  A  plain  white  dress,  not  a  single  orna 
ment,  and  your  long  curls  all  in  your  neck  with 
nothing  to  confine  them.  And  yet,  Eveline,  that 
Puritan  dress  is  so  becoming,  I  will  not  go  one 
step  until  you  are  remodeled,  lest  the  Count  should 
say  I  had  stolen  your  gems  in  very  spite.  Nay, 
no  resistance.  Sit  down  upon  this  sofa,  and  let 


THE   FAIR   IMLI.RIM.  1  53 

me  sec  if  I  cannot  spoil  that  look — what  did  the 
Marquis  call  it,  Eveline  ?  Oh,  'simplicity,  sweet 
simplicity.'" 

"  You  speak  foolishly,  Julia,"  replied  the  lady, 
while  her  sister  prepared  to  fulfil  her  threat.-— 
"  It  matters  little  now  what  robes  I  wear'' 

"Ah,  Eveline,  taste,  and  heart  and  all  gone  ? 
If  I  remember  aright,  they  have  been  missing  since 
morning.  It  looks  a  little  auspicious  of  that  young 
Marquis,  sister."  She  paused  a  moment,  but  Ev 
eline  had  no  heart  to  reply. 

"  There,  that  blue  sash  is  quite  becoming,  Lady 
Eveline,  I  have  tied  it  behind  in  a  true  lover's 
knot,  and  these  curls  begin  to  look  extremely 
graceful  beneath  my  magic  touch.  And  not  the 
least  symptom  of  a  bracelet,"  she  continued  with 
increased  vivacity.  "One  would  suppose  you 
were  dressed  for  a  fine  night's  slumber,  instead 
of  the  drawing  room.  But  do  not  look  so  sad 
about  it,  you  may  wear  these  amethysts  of  mine. 
Now,  my  lady,  look  in  the  glass,"  she  added 
taking  her  hand,  "and  pay  the  compliments  due 
to  my  skill  and  taste. 

"It  is  beautiful,  very  beautiful,"  repeated  Eve 
line,  her  thoughts  still  dwelling  on  the  bitterness 
of  her  approaching  destiny. 

"  You  are  in  the  complimentary  mood  this  even 
ing,  my  grave  sister,  but  come,  we  must  hasten 
down.  We  have  waited  too  long  already."  And 
arm-in-arm  they  now  moved  quickly  through  the 
gallery  and  were  soon  standing  in  the  brilliantly 
illuminated  drawing  room. 

All  seemed  in  fine  spirits,  save  the  Lady  Eve 
line,  and  if  she  was  sad,  it  was  not  for  want  of  at 
tempts  at  cheerfulness.  Her  gay  brother,  not 
withstanding,  rallied  her  much  upon  her  mourn- 


154  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

ful  visage,  but  as  the  evening  advanced  and  her 
paleness  every  moment  increased,  he  became 
alarmed,  and  Eveline  soon  saw  him  directing  her 
father's  eye  to  her,  from  a  distant  part  of  the 
room.  The  Earl  instantly  approached. 

"  You  look  ill,  daughter,"  he  said  to  her.  "Do 
not  weary  yourself  by  sitting  here.  Indeed,  Eve 
line,"  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  unwonted  feeling, 
"  I  fear  you  are  much  indisposed." 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  the  lady,  with  a  sudden  ef 
fort,  "I  am  quite  well.  George  will  tell  you  I 
have  been  laughing  with  him  all  the  evening.  But 
my  walk  this  afternoon,  was  long  and  I  am  unu 
sually  fatigued. 

"Then,"  replied  the  Earl,  "you  must  retire  to 
your  own  apartment  and  stay  till  you  can  come 
forth  with  a  fresh  bloom.  Do  not  wait  for  cere 
mony,"  he  added,  "  I  will  excuse  your  absence. 
Good  night,  daughter." 

The  lady  looked  silently  up,  for  a  moment,  on 
her  father's  countenance,  as  if  with  that  one  glance 
she  was  seeking  to  stamp  it  forever  on  her  memo 
ry; — "Goodnight,  my  father,  good  night,"  she 
repeated  in  a  low  and  solemn  voice,  and  she 
seemed  waiting  for  the  parting  kiss,  as  she  had 
been  wont  to  do  in  her  childhood.  For  a  mo 
ment  her  father's  lip  met  her's,  it  was  for  the  last 
time,  and  a  thrill  of  strange  anguish  rushed  through 
her  frame. 

George  was  standing  by  the  door  as  she  passed. 

"  There,  Eveline,  am  I  not  a  dear  and  precious 
brother,  to  procure  your  banishment  from  the  par 
lor  in  such  season  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  George,"  said  the  lady  interrupting 
him,  in  a  tone  of  thrilling  emphasis,  "you  are 
dear  and  precious."  She  would  have  said  more, 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.  155 

but  her  voice  trembled,  the  gay  smile  faded  from 
her  lip ;  her  brother's  hand  rested  a  moment  in 
hers,  and  there  beamed  from  her  countenance 
such  a  look  of  sorrow  and  holy  tenderness,  as 
long  years  had  not  power  to  efface  from  the  me 
mory  of  the  youth. 

Just  as  the  door  was  closing,  Lady  Evelin 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  sister.  She  was  sitting 
in  a  distant  recess,  conversing  gaily  amid  a  group 
of  admirers.  Her  whole  countenance  was  bright 
with  gladness,  and  a  keener  pang  pierced  the 
heart  of  her  sister,  as  the  door  closed  upon  this 
last  best  object  of  her  earthly  affection. 

It  was  nearly  ten  when  the  Lady  reached  her 
apartment.  One  short  hour  was  all  that  remain 
ed, — one  hour  more  and  the  places  which  knew 
her  now,  would  know  her  no  more.  She  leaned 
her  head  upon  her  pillow — the  firm  restraint  which 
had  hitherto  borne  down  her  feelings,  now  gave 
way,  and  the  lady  wept  bitterly.  Suddenly  she 
felt  a  light  arm  fiung  around  her.  "  Dear  sister, 
why  do  you  weep?"  said  the  gentle  tones  of  the 
Lady  Julia,  as  she  gazed  with  surprise  upon  her 
tearful  countenance. 

"Oh,  Julia,  my  heart  is  broken,  I  cannot  bear 
it,  indeed  I  cannot," — and  she  leaned  her  pale, 
wet  cheek  on  her  sister's  shoulder. 

"  And  why,"  exclaimed  the  lovely  girl,  as  she 
pressed  her  lip  affectionately  to  hers.  "  Why  will 
you  not  tell  me  your  sorrows?  Have  I  ever  re 
fused  you  my  sympathy  ? — Once,  indeed,  when  I 
thought  you  enthusiastic  and  bewildered  with  the 
doctrines  of  the  Puritans,  I  blamed  you — but 
surely  that  can  have  no  connection  with  your 
present  sorrows." 

There  was  something  in  her  last  words  which 


156  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

aroused  the  lady  from  her  reverie  ;  she  now  rose 
calmly  from  her  sister's  arms,  and  throwing  back 
the  curls  from  her  pale  forehead,  endeavored,  with 
a  smile  beautifully  serene,  to  conceal  the  agony 
of  her  spirit.  Oh,  deeply  was  that  image  written 
on  the  heart  of  the  sister,  when  months  and  years 
rolled  on  and  she  saw  her  no  more. 

" Julia,  excuse  my  weakness — my  spirits  are 
low  to-night — my  heart  throbs  painfully.  I  need 
repose,  dear  sister." 

"But,  Eveline,  you  look  extremely  pale.  Let 
me  call  my  father." 

"No,  sister,  do  not  concern  yourself,"  replied 
the  lady, — "I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,  Julia, 
for  all  your  kindness,"  and  she  turned  to  the  dress 
ing  table  to  conceal  her  emotion. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour,  the  younger  sister  lay 
asleep  on  her  pillow,  but  Eveline  still  slowly 
paced  the  apartment.  She  was  clad  in  a  habit  of 
dark,  rich  velvet,  and  the  fanciful  dress  and  or 
naments  she  had  that  evening  worn,  together  with 
her  sister's,  and  many  other  gay  articles  of  appa 
rel  were  lying  on  the  sofas  around  her. 

The  taper  threw  a  feeble  gleam  on  the  various 
objects  of  the  room :  the  last  echo  of  retiring  steps 
had  ceased,  and  there  was  a  stillness  throughout 
the  castle.  With  a  trembling  step  she  approach 
ed,  to  take  one  last  farewell  of  the  beloved  sleeper. 
The  warm  tear  which  dropped  on  the  cheek  of 
the  dreaming  girl  for  a  moment  aroused  her. 

"  Eveline,  is  it  you  ?"  she  murmured,  "  why  do 
you  wait  so  long  ?"  Then  again  closing  her  eye, 
she  turned  her  face  upon  the  pillow,  and  thejady 
saw  her  no  more. 

Ellen  Wilson  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
avenue,  when  she  beheld  in  the  distance  the  form 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.  157 

of  the  Lady  Eveline,  coming  forth  for  the  last 
time  from  the  halls  of  her  fathers.  There  was 
something  deeply  affecting  in  the  sight  of  such 
devotedness  in  one  so  young  ;  and  Ellen  could 
not  but  weep.  But  there  was  no  tear  on  the 
lady's  cheek.  The  bitterness  of  the  sacrifice  was 
past ;  her  step  was  firm,  her  eye  bright,  and  her 
brow  calm  with  the  fervency  of  devotion.  Once 
indeed,  when  they  had  reached  the  boundary  of 
her  father's  domain,  the  lady  turned — she  leaned 
a  moment  on  the  wall  and  gazed  for  the  last  time 
on  the  loved  scenes  of  her  early  years.  The 
venerable  castle,  long  avenue,  and  the  shady  park, 
were  lying  in  the  solemn  moonlight.  For  an  in 
stant,  her  eye  lingered  on  the  high  window  where 
the  light  was  still  burning  in  the  Lady  Julia's 
apartment;  and  then  again  they  walked  swiftly 
onward. 

Ellen  Wilson  was  also  of  the  Pilgrims,  and  as 
her  feet  pressed  the  soft  grass  of  the  beautiful 
coppice,  where  she  had  played  in  childhood,  her 
heart  knew  its  own  bitterness. 

Lights  were  moving  swiftly  through  the  cottage, 
and  the  lady  soon  found  herself  sealed  in  the  midst 
of  that  stem  and  sorrowful  band  whose  kindness 
was  henceforth  to  be  to  her  instead  of  the  strong 
ties  of  earthly  love. 

All  was  now  ready.  Carriages  were  waiting 
at  the  door.  But  they  lingered  a  moment  longer. 
The  heads  of  the  Pilgrims  were  bowed  in  prayer. 
Little  children  with  golden  curls,  and  hoary  age, 
youth  and  manhood  kneeled  together;  and  their 
mingled  spirits,  and  ''the  warm  blood  of  their  slain 
affections,"  ascended  to  heaven  in  grateful  obla 
tion.  All  that  they  asked  was  granted.  Dauntless 
courage,  unwavering  fortitude,  love  to  God  and 
14 


158  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

man,  and  hopes  full  of  immortality,  fell  on  them 
like  the  dew  of  heaven. 

The  lady  was  soon  seated  in  a  closed  carnage 
by  the  side  of  Ellen  Wilson,  and  she  gazed  with  a 
tearless  eye  from  the  window,  till  her  native  val 
ley,  and  its  lofty  turrets  had  quite  faded  in  the  dis 
tance,  and  ere  the  bell  had  tolled  through  the  cas 
tle  the  second  hour  of  the  morning,  she  was  stand 
ing  far  away  on  the  deck  of  the  vessel  which  was 
soon  to  bear  her  to  her  destined  home. 


CHAPTER  III. 


"Hail  to  the  land  of  our  toils  and  our  sorrows  ! 
Land  of  our  rest  1    when  a  few  more  to-morrows 
Pass  o'er  our  heads,  we  will  seek  our  cold  pillow, 
And  rest  in  our  graves,  far  away  o'er  the  billow." 

WHEN  the  joyful  sound  of  "  Land — land  in 
sight,"  was  echoed  in  the  ear  of  the  wearied  voy 
agers,  the  Lady  Eveline  was  sitting  in  her  cabin 
engaged  in  those  refined  and  elevating  studies, 
which  during  her  voyage  she  had  found  means  to 
prosecute.  Ellen  was  seated  on  a  low  stool,  be 
side  her,  busily  occupied  with  her  needle,  and 
from  time  to  time  her  eye  glanced  on  an  open 
book  which  lay  in  the  chair  before  her.  There 
were  many  other  females  present,  but  as  the  cabin 
was  large,  it  allowed  them  to  scatter  themselves 
in  various  groups,  as  best  suited  their  tastes. 

"  Do  you  hear  it,  my  Lady  ?"  said  Ellen,  throw 
ing  down  her  work,  and  gazing  earnestly  on  her. 
"  Was  it  not  land  they  cried  ?" 

They  listened  again,  there  was  no  mistake. 
The  loud  "  huzza  for  land,"  echoed  in  the  hoarse 
voices  of  the  sailors  above  them,  and  Ellen,  with 
many  of  the  females,  immediately  hastened  upon 
deck.  The  former,  however,  soon  returned  with 
a  look  of  much  disappointment,  assuring  her 
friend  that  the  object  of  their  curiosity  was  only 
visible  through  a  glass  and  on  the  top  of  the  mast. 
This  was  nothing  more  than  the  lady  had  expected ; 


160  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

and  had  it  been  otherwise,  she  found  that  without 
some  preparation  of  heart,  she  could  not  even 
now  look  unmoved  upon  the  land  of  her  voluntary 
exile. 

It  was  midnight,  when  the  ships  conveying  the 
Pilgrims  approached  the  shore  of  their  destination. 
Ellen  Wilson  and  her  noble  friend  were  standing 
together  on  the  deck,  gazing  silently  before  them 
as  they  slowly  neared  the  rock-bound  coast.  The 
deck  was  crowded  with  Pilgrims,  all  looking 
eagerly  forward  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  their  future 
home.  The  dim  light  of  the  stars  only,  illumined 
the  scene  ;  and  even  this  was  in  part  obscured,  by 
a  few  cold  and  broken  clouds,  that  swept  cheer 
lessly  across  the  heavens.  Nothing  could  be  dis 
cerned  but  a  faint  outline  of  forest,  rock  and  vale  ; 
and  the  awful  gloom  which  seemed  to  rest  upon 
them,  the  noise  of  the  sailors,  shouting  and  run 
ning  to  and  fro,  and  the  damp  midnight  breeze 
which  moaned  over  the  wave,  all  sent  an  icy  chill 
through  the  hearts  of  that  gazing  band.  How 
often  amid  the  silence  of  midnight  had  this 
long  expected  vision  arisen  before  their  sight. 
Was  it  still  a  drearn?  Oh,  no,  the  warmth  of  fan 
cy  was  gone,  and  over  it  all,  there  was  a  touch  of 
cold  reality  which  fancy  never  brings.  If  there 
had  been  enthusiasm,  it  was  over  now;  if  the 
coloring  of  an  ardent  imagination  had  ever  been 
thrown  over  their  enterprise,  it  all  faded  as  they 
leaned  forward,  and  gazed  on  that  dim  shore,  and 
remembered  that  this  dismal  forest  was  now  their 
only  home,  and  the  cold  blue  heaven  their  only 
covering.  If  tears  dropped  on  the  wave,  it  was  not 
strange ;  for  some  were  thinking  of  the  quiet  and 
loveliness  of  the  pleasant  firesides,  far  away  over 
the  ocean ;  and  some  were  there,  whose  dearest 


THE  FUR  PILGRIM,  161 

kindred  were  at  this  moment  sleeping  in  princely 
halls,  and  who  had  been  wont  to  rest  beside 
them. 

The  destination  of  the  present  colony  was  at  a 
considerable  distance  above  the  rock  upon  which 
the  first  Pilgrims  had  landed,  and  was  on  many 
accounts  a  far  more  eligible  situation.  It  was 
styled  by  the  natives  Naumeak ;  and  when  the 
Pilgrims  again  looked  upon  it,  in  the  pleasant 
light  of  morning,  there  were  no  murmurs,  nay,  the 
voice  of  praise  was  heard,  that  "  the  lines  had 
fallen  to  them  in  such  pleasant  places." 

After  much  preliminary  business  had  been  ar 
ranged,  about  noon  on  the  second  day  after  their 
arrival,  the  whole  body  of  the  emigrants  prepared 
to  go  on  shore.  The  Lady  Eveline  leaned  on  the 
arm  of  Ellen,  as  this  strange  procession  moved 
away  through  the  untrodden  paths  of  the  forest. 
During  the  preceding  day  a  party  had  been  des 
patched  to  reconnoitre  the  place,  and  having  se 
lected  as  a  spot  for  settlement  a  small  clearing 
near  the  shore,  they  now  acted  as  guides  to  the 
remainder.  A  large  temporary  shelter  had  been 
hastily  thrown  up  of  broken  boughs  and  trees 
which  had  been  cut  down  for  the  purpose,  and  a 
party  of  the  settlers  were  soon  employed  in  con 
veying  thither  the  articles  of  furniture  they  had 
brought  with  them  from  England.  All  was  now 
joyful  bustle  and  confusion.  Many  of  the  females, 
with  the  gentle  assiduity  of  their  sex,  were  busy 
in  the  interior  of  their  new  dwelling,  seeking,  not 
withstanding  their  various  disadvantages,  to  give 
it  a  cheerful  appearance.  Meanwhile  another 
party  had  arrived  from  the  ship,  with  tools  and 
materials  for  building;  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
14* 


162  THE    FAIR  PILGRIM. 

noise  of  the  axe   and  hammer  resounded  on  all 
sides  through  the  forest. 

There  was  something  strangely  animating  in 
their  toil.  The  Pilgrim  females  stood  around  for 
awhile,  gazing  upon  it  with  anxious  silence,  while 
the  sportive  voices  of  childhood  rang  through  the 
wood,  and  even  the  babes  themselves  lifted  up 
their  meek  brows  from  their  mother's  arms,  gaz 
ing  on  the  strange  scene  with  smiles. 

Under  such  auspices,  it  was  not  long  ere  a  rude 
\illage  had  risen  instead  of  the  waving  forest. 
A  sanctuary  for  Him  whom  they  had  come  over 
the  waves  to  worship  in  freedom  of  spirit,  was 
reared  in  the  midst  of  their  dwellings.  Pleasant 
indeed  to  the  souls  of  the  wearied  Pilgrims,  was 
the  light  of  their  first  New-England  sabbath. 
They  could  now  fearlessly  worship  the  Father  of 
spirits,  in  spirit  and  in  truth  ;  and  as  the  voice  of 
prayer  rose  to  heaven,  from  the  depths  of  that 
solemn  forest,  with  no  voice  to  chide,  and  no  ear 
to  hear  but  the  ear  of  a  forgiving  God,  as  the 
rocks  and  vales  which  till  now  had  listened  only 
to  the  hymn  of  the  morning  stars,  echoed  with 
the  loud  sweet  song  of  praise,  and  their  souls 
drank  freely  of  that  well  of  living  water,  of  which 
if  a  man  drink  he  is  athirst  no  more, — they  felt  that 
they  had  not  vainly  abandoned  all.  And  could 
the  worshipers  in  the  proud  cathedrals  of  Old 
England,  have  glanced  on  that  band,  they  would 
have  read  on  many  a  meek  and  beautiful  brow, 
and  in  the  warm  flush  that  lighted  even  the  cheek 
of  manhood,  the  records  of  a  devotion  no  less 
lofty  than  their  own. 

The  rude  huts,  which  on  their  landing  had 
been  hastily  erected,  were  only  considered  as 
temporary  habitations.  Each  family  soon  made 


THE    FAIR    PILGRIM.  163 

efforts  to  provide  its  own  dwelling  place  ;  and  ns 
many  of  the  colonists  had  possessed  wealth  in 
England,  some  were  able  to  do  it  in  a  style  of 
simple  and  becoming  neatness ;  and  the  lovely 
village  of  Salem  with  its  pleasant  church  and  cot 
tages  and  cultivated  fields,  ere  long  had  risen  in 
the  bosom  of  the  forest, — so  that,  literally,  in  the 
beautiful  words  of  sacred  promise,  "The  wilder 
ness  had  begun  to  blossom  as  the  rose.'* 

A  pleasant  room  in  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Wilson, 
had  been  fitted  up  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
Lady  Eveline.  Ellen  had  planted  beneath  the 
window  a  rose  bush  from  the  forest,  and  a  vine 
of  wild  honeysuckle  crept  over  the  wall.  Pre 
cious  indeed  to  Ellen  was  the  happiness  of  that 
noble  lady  who  had  come  with  her  across  the 
deep,  whom  from  her  earliest  childhood  she  had 
regarded  with  that  indefinite  veneration  inspired 
by  high  birth,  and  who  now,  in  the  new  and 
endearing  relations  she  sustained  to  her,  was  at 
once  the  object  of  her  love  and  admiration. 

Bat  as  for  the  lady  herself,  she  seemed  well  to 
have  learned  that  bitter  lesson,  which  the  sorrows 
of  her  youth  had  inculcated; — her  affections  no 
longer  rested  on  the  things  of  earth.  Their 
strong  tendrils  had  been  too  cruelly  torn,  to  fas 
ten  on  aught  beneath  the  skies;  and  all  that  did 
not  still  linger  on  the  remembered  and  cherished 
forms  of  her  kindred  far  away  over  the  ocean, 
now  bloomed  in  heaven. 

Not  that  the  lady  regarded  with  indifference 
the  holy  companions  of  her  pilgrimage  ;  she  loved 
them  tenderly  as  the  sharers  of  her  toils  and  sor 
rows  on  earth,  and  as  those  whom  she  hoped 
would  share  her  long  reward,  when  these  toils 
and  sorrows  were  over.  But  there  was  none  of 


164  THE    FAIR    PILGRIM. 

that  strong  clinging  of  natural  affection,  which 
had  marked  the  days  of  her  wealth  and  splendor. 
There  was  no  singling  out  of  objects  for  deep  at 
tachment.  She  was  contented  to  love  them  all, 
as  children  of  the  same  heavenly  Father.  And 
the  lady  was  not  unhappy.  Long  hours  of  calm 
and  pure  enjoyment,  were  often  her  portion  amid 
the  silence  of  her  own  apartment.  Often  as  she 
sat  by  her  pleasant  window,  and  gazed  upon  the 
beautiful  land  around  her,  the  near  ocean,  and 
the  bright  skies  above,  such  moments  of  holy 
feeling,  such  exquisite  conceptions  of  the  purity 
and  tenderness  of  heavenly  love  were  granted 
her,  that  her  soul  seemed  almost  to  participate 
in  the  blessedness  of  that  land,  where  the  rivers 
of  pleasure  flow  unmingled.  The  events  of  her 
life  had  been  fitted  to  purify  and  elevate  her  af 
fections  ;  and  she  felt  that  one  moment  of  this 
holy  enjoyment  was  more  than  sufficient  to  reward 
her  for  her  painful  sacrifice. 

But  the  days  of  darkness  were  many.  Famine, 
disease,  and  death,  came  often  to  the  cottages  of 
the  Puritans,  and  sometimes  their  hearts  failed 
them  and  the  path  seemed  too  thorny  for  man  to 
tread.  It  was  in  such  seasons  that  the  tender  ex 
ertions  of  the  Lady  Eveline  were  peculiarly  use 
ful.  Her  unwavering  self-denial,  her  tenderness 
and  condescension,  had  won  the  hearts  of  the 
colonists;  and  this  influence,  so  nobly  acquired, 
was  exerted  only  to  relieve  the  afflicted,  and  com 
fort  those  that  mourned. 

The  second  year  after  their  landing,  a  large 
accession  of  emigrants  arrived  from  England. 
They  brought  with  them  a  charter,  which  after 
much  solicitation  had  been  obtained  from  Charles, 
transferring  the  powers  of  government  into  the 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.  1C5 

hands  of  the  colonists  themselves.  One  of  the 
ships  also  conveyed  their  first  officers  who  were 
appointed  by  the  crown.  In  consequence  of  this, 
their  numbers  during  the  succeeding  summer 
weregreatly  increased, and  the  emigrants  at  length 
became  so  numerous  that  it  was  deemed  advisable 
for  a  large  portion  of  them  to  settle  themselves 
at  a  place,  called  by  the  natives  Shawmut,  but 
now  well  known  as  the  site  of  a  flourishing  city. 
And  now  approached  the  season  of  their  severest 
trial. 

During  the  ensuing  winter  a  dreadful  mortality 
prevailed  among  the  colonists.  Hunger,  weari 
ness,  and  sickness  they  had  borne  unmurmuring; 
but  here  was  death  in  all  its  bitterness.  Fathers 
and  mothers  died  ;  bibes  and  children  were  laid 
in  the  grave,  while  the  bloom  of  life  was  scarce 
cold  on  their  young  faces  ;  the  warm  dreams  of 
youth  were  quenched  in  the  stillness  of  the  long 
sleep;  and  many  a  voice,  like  the  voice  in  Rama, 
arose  from  among  the  Puritan  cottages.  Few 
escaped  the  power  of  the  raging  sickness,  arid 
every  day  the  fresh  turf  of  the  burial  ground  rose 
on  some  new  made  grave. 

It  was  now  that  the  religion  which  had  softened 
the  heart  of  the  Lady  Eveline,  was  revealed  in  its 
most  touching  light.  The  natural  delicacy  of  her 
frame,  seemed  all  to  have  vanished.  While  the 
strong  lay  prostrate  with  disease  and  death,  fresh 
energies  seemed  given  to  her ;  with  a  light  un 
wearied  step,  she  moved  by  the  couches  of  the 
dying  and  the  dead  ;  and  days  of  anxiety  and 
nights  of  sleepless  watching,  wasted  not  the  bloom 
of  her  countenance.  The  pillow  of  many  a  dying 
child  was  softened  by  her  attentions,  and  when 
the  mother  had  turned  away  in  the  depths  of  her 


166  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

agony,  the  cold  hand  of  the  little  sufferer  rested 
in  hers;  and  her  kind  and  gentle  assiduities  were 
continued  till  the  calm  smile  of  death  had  settled 
on  its  features.  Her  pure  and  elevated  piety 
gave  her  also  unwonted  access  to  the  souls  of  the 
bereaved,  for  her  words  were  low  and  soothing, 
and  all  of  heaven,  and  of  the  blessedness  of  a  land, 
where  sickness  and  death  might  not  come,  and 
sorrow  and  sighing  should  flee  away. 

The  long  winter  at  length  rolled  by,  and  with  it 
the  heavy  calamities  which  had  visited  the  colony. 
Ships  from  England  gladdened  the  hearts  of  the 
wearied  exiles  ;  and  as  the  pure  spring  air  danced 
freshly  over  the  earth,  it  seemed  to  endue  them 
with  health  and  vigor. 

But  there  was  one,  to  whom  the  spring  in  all  its 
freshness,  bore  no  promise  of  future  years.  Slowly 
and  surely  the  frost  of  death  was  descending  on 
the  brow  of  the  young  and  beautiful.  She  who 
had  watched  so  tenderly  by  the  couches  of  the 
dying,  was  now  herself  to  die ;  she  who  had  so 
often  directed  others  to  heaven,  was  now  herself 
to  enjoy  its  blessedness.  But  the  disease  was 
deep,  and  its  secret  work  impaired  not,  at  all,  the 
loveliness  of  the  frail  flower  it  was  destroying. 
To  one  who  might  have  gazed,  for  a  moment  only, 
on  the  lady,  thoughts  of  decay  and  death  would 
have  seemed  strangely  inappropriate.  None  of 
her  usual  avocations  were  neglected.  At  morn 
ing  and  evening  she  was  still  seen  taking  her  ac 
customed  walk  along  the  shady  paths  of  the  vil 
lage,  or  through  her  favorite  forest  walks,  her 
visits  of  kindness  and  sisterly  love  were  still  con 
tinued,  and  those  who  passed  the  pleasant  dwel 
ling  of  the  pastor,  might  still  observe  her  light 


THE    FAIR    PILGRIM.  167 

form  through  the  honey-suckles,  or  see  her  ram 
bling  with  Ellen  in  the  little  green  enclosure. 

But  they  who  watched  her  daily,  with  that  in 
tense  anxiety  which  the  love  of  earthly  objects  so 
surely  brings  with  it,  felt  too  truly  that  though 
death  was  coming  on  forms  of  strange  loveliness, 
he  had  none  the  less  surely  marked  his  victim. 
They  saw  that  every  day  her  step  became  slower, 
her  form  more  light  and  airy,  and  her  low,  thrilling 
voice,  yet  more  low  and  thrilling.  They  saw  too 
that  whenever  she  spoke,  her  eye  wore  an  unwont 
ed  brilliancy;  and  instead  of  the  pale  damask, 
a  color  all  too  deep  and  bright  for  earth,  mantled 
her  cheek. 

The  lady  herself  felt  that  she  must  die;  and 
though  at  some  moments,  the  sudden  recollection 
of  this  firm  conviction,  would  bring  the  rich  crim 
son  to  her  lip,  in  general  the  thought  was  peace. 
She  knew  that  she  had  not  lived  in  vain.  The 
principles  of  holiness  implanted  in  her  soul,  had 
long  been  developed  in  high  and  holy  action  ;  and 
though  the  love  of  heaven  wns  her  only  hope, 
these  recollections  were  now  inexpressibly  sweet, 
as  evidences  that  this  love  had  sanctified  her  af 
fections.  Upon  the  first  conviction  that  death 
was  approaching,  the  Lady  Eveline  had  addressed 
letters  to  her  friends  in  England,  informing  them 
of  her  illness,  and  repeating  her  solemn  farewell, 
till  she  should  meet  them  again  in  the  world  of 
spirits. 

It  was  June — and  a  beautiful  sabbath  after 
noon.  For  some  days  past,  the  lady  had  been 
confined  entirely  to  her  own  apartment ;  and 
now,  supported  by  Ellen  Wilson,  she  walked 
from  her  bed  to  a  seat  by  the  open  window,  to 
catch  the  fresh  breeze  that  was  springing  up  from 


168  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 

the  ocean.  Exhausted  even  with  this  slight  ex 
ertion,  she  leaned  her  head  a  moment  on  Ellen's 
shoulder.  The  only  contrast  to  the  marble  white 
ness  of  her  countenance  was  in  the  hue  of  the 
long  eyelash  that  now  lay  in  such  deep  repose  on 
her  cheek.  The  rich  coloring  of  life  seemed 
gone  forever.  Her  cap  had  fallen  carelessly  back, 
and  the  breeze  played  lightly  among  the  long 
and  beautiful  hair  it  released.  Ellen  had  sup 
ported  her  head  with  pillows  ;  and  now  stood  be 
side  her,  gently  fanning  her  brow,  and  gazing 
with  intense  grief  on  the  altered  hue  of  her  fea 
tures. 

"You  are  too  ill,  dear  Lady,  to  sit  up  thus,  do 
not  attempt  it  to-day,"  she  exclaimed,  as  the  inva 
lid  at  length  slowly  opened  her  eye. 

"  I  am  better  now,  my  kind  Ellen,"  replied  the 
lady.  "  1  will  sit  here  awhile,  for  I  long  to  look 
out  once  more  on  the  green  and  freshness  of 
earth.  Oh,  how  fervently  have  I  loved  it.  I  can 
not  go  away  from  this  world  forever  without  one 
last  look ;"  and  as  she  spoke,  she  leaned  gently 
forward  to  gaze  on  the  beautiful  prospect. 

A  more  quiet  and  lovely  scene  has  seldom  met 
the  eye.  Perfect,  sabbath  stillness  hung  over 
the  cottages  around ;  and  far  beyond  stretched 
the  rocky  shore,  and  the  wave  of  the  Atlantic. 
It  was  the  hour  of  afternoon  service  and  the  in 
habitants  were  now  all  assembled  in  the  house  of 
God.  This  was  near  them,  and  as  they  leaned 
upon  the  window,  the  loud  hymn  of  praise  rose  in 
rich  swells  on  the  air. 

"  Oh,  Ellen,  hear  that  holy  music  '"  murmured 
the  lady  faintly.  "  I  could  almost  dream  that  the 
airs  of  heaven  already  played  on  my  ear.  Surely 
there  was  never  so  lovely  a  sabbath  before ;  or, 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.  169 

Ellen,  is  it  because  the  earth  grows  beautiful,  as 
it  fades  from  my  sight?" 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  some  pleasant  re 
collection  seemed  to  flit  across  her  mind.  "  The 
grass  in  the  coppice,  Ellen,  must  be  green  ere 
this,"  she  suddenly  exclaimed, — "  and  the  shady 
avenue.  Oh,  for  a  walk  in  that  avenue  to-day." 

Ellen  was  surprised.  The  lady  had  hardly 
ever  spoken  of  her  former  enjoyments,  since  the 
period  of  their  landing;  but  now  all  restraint 
seemed  over. 

"Ellen,  look  over  that  blue  wave,  and  far  be 
yond,"  she  continued.  "  You  can  see  nothing — 
and  yet  I  have  looked  there,  hour  after  hour,  till 
my  eye  has  pierced  the  dreadful  distance,  and  the 
lovely  valley,  the  castle,  and  the  park,  were  all 
before  it ;  nay,  I  roamed  through  the  halls  of  my 
ancestors,  and  I  heard  the  voices  of  those  who 
were  dearer  to  me  than  life.  But,  Ellen,  it  is 
over  now,  my  eye  is  dim,  and  the  pleasant  land, 
far  away  over  the  ocean,  will  rise  no  more  to  it," 
— and  the  lady  wept. 

"  But  you  have  long  had  grace  from  heaven,  to 
strengthen  you  in  suffering.  Oh,  my  Lady,  will 
it  fail  you  in  your  need  ?' 

"  But  to  die,  Ellen,  far  away  from  my  kindred, 
unremembered  and  unblest — my  soul  cannot  en 
dure  it.  There  is  music  and  dancing  in  my  fa 
ther's  hall,  my  own  Julia  smiles  gaily,  my  bro 
ther's  laugh  rings  through  the  castle  as  joyfully 

as  ever,  and  even" she  paused  a  moment  and 

a  rich  color  tinged  her  cheek, — "  and  I,  whom 
they  all  once  loved,  am  dying,  alone,  on  this  dis 
tant  shore." 

Ellen  perceived  that  the  unusual  emotion  which 
the  lady  now  exhibited,  was  fast  exhausting  her 
15 


170  THE    FAIR    PILGRIM. 

strength,  and  she  was  intreating  her  to  retire 
again  to  her  couch,  when  the  appearance  of  a 
ship  entering  the  harbor,  arrested  her  attention. 
Though  this  had  of  late  become  a  less  rare  oc 
currence  than  formerly,  still  the  sight  of  these 
messengers  from  the  land  of  their  nativity  pos 
sessed  strong  fascinations  for  the  eyes  of  the  pil 
grims,  and  Ellen  now  parted  away  the  clustering 
vine,  and  leaned  forward  to  watch  the  landing. 
The  eye  of  the  lady  was  also  directed  to  the  same 
point,  and  now  and  then  a  few  brief  remarks  in 
dicated  her  interest  in  the  scene.  The  deck  was 
apparently  well  crowded  with  passengers,  and  so 
near  was  the  harbor,  that  they  could  even  distin 
guish  their  figures  as  they  walked  separately  across 
the  plank  which  had  been  thrown  over,  to  facili 
tate  their  landing.  ^ 

"  Ah,  Lady  Eveline,  those  are  not  all  pilgrims, 
believe  me,"  exclaimed  Ellen,  as  a  richly  dressed 
group,  one  by  one,  passed  over.  "  That  lady's 
robe  is  all  too  gay,  and  her  step  too  proud,  and 
those  young  cavaliers  that  are  over  now,  and 
walking  with  her,  they  are  no  pilgrims,  my 
Lady." 

At  that  moment  a  slight  noise  caused  her  to 
turn  her  head,  and  she  perceived  with  alarm  that 
the  lady  had  fallen,  fainting,  on  her  pillow. 

"  Oh,  help  me  to  my  couch,  Ellen,  for  I  am  sick 
and  weary,"  she  murmured,  as  her  eye  slowly 
reopened  ;  and  when  her  pale  face  at  length  rest 
ed  quietly  on  its  pillow,  Ellen  saw  tha£  she  was  to 
rise  no  more  a  living  being.  A  deathlike  slum 
ber  soon  sealed  her  eye  again,  and  they  who  were 
hovering  around  her  couch,  almost  feared  it  was 
death  itself.  Long  and  sorrowfully  did  Ellen 
watch  by  her  noble  friend,  until  at  last  a  deep 


THE  FUR  PILGRIM.  171 

hectic  began  to  brighten  on  her  cheek,  her  lip 
burned  with  a  living  glow,  and  when  her  eye 
again  opened,  it  shone  with  an  unnatural  and 
dazzling  brilliancy. 

"Oh,  where  is  Julia  ?"  she  said,  gazing  uncon 
sciously  around  her.  "  I  have  long  been  sick  and 
sorrowful,  and  she  has  not  come  to  me,  my  sister, 
my  own  beloved  sister,  where  are  you  ?"  and  she 
looked  wildly  upon  Ellen.  "Nay,  Ellen  Wilson, 
do  not  tell  me  that  I  am  dying  far  over  the  ocean, 
among  the  pilgrims.  It  was  all  a  dream,  a  long 
strange  dream.  Is  not  this  my  own  apartment, 
and  is  not  this  the  pillow  that  the  Lady  Julia 
sleeps  on? — and  these  lofty  walls,  and  those  rich 
curtains  and  hangings,  do  these  belong  to  the 
puritan  cottage?"  She  smiled  and  shook  her 
head.  "  No — no — I  saw  none  such  in  my  dream. 
"  Ah,  Julia,  you  have  come  at  last,"  she  continued 
after  a  few  moment's  pause,  regarding  Ellen. 
"  Now  lay  your  soft  hand  on  my  aching  brow,  it 
seems  ages  since  I  felt  it  last." 

Ellen  gently  laid  her  hand  on  her  forehead. 

"Ellen  Wilson,  do  not  mock  me,"  she  exclaim 
ed  after  a  moment's  pause.  "  Your  touch  is  light 
and  gentle,  but  it  is  not  like  the  touch  of  a  sis 
ter's  hand.  Once  more,  Julia,"  she  added  in  a 
tone  of  indescribable  tenderness,  "once  more, 
only  for  one  moment,  I  pray  you  come  to  me. 
Oh,  she  will  not  come,  I  have  intreated  and  pray 
ed,  and  she  will  not  come,"  and  again  the  dying 
lady  wept. 

It  was  sunset,  and  the  yellow  light  reflected 
from  without,  had  given  a  rich  and  mellow  tinge 
to  the  objects  of  the  apartment.  The  lady's  eye 
had  long  been  closed,  but  she  had  not  slumbered. 
Strange  visions  flitted  across  her  mind.  She  had 


172  THE    FAIR    PILGRIM. 

heard  many  a  light  tread  by  her  bedside,  sweet 
tones  repeated  her  name  low  in  her  ear,  warm 
tears  dropped  on  her  cheek,  soft  lips  met  hers, 
and  faint  thoughts  of  the  bliss  of  other  years 
came  over  her  like  traces  of  faded  dreams. 

At  last  her  eye  opened.  The  small  fair  hand 
that  lay  on  the  quilt  was  loaded  with  gems. 
Slowly  she  raised  her  glance  to  the  bedside.  Ah, 
whose  was  that  beautiful  and  glistening  eye  that 
now  met  hers?  Was  it  still  a  deceitful  vision  ? 
She  gazed  slowly  around.  All  illusion  vanished. 
She  was  lying  in  her  own  humble  apartment,  in 
the  cottage  of  the  minister.  The  window  by 
which  she  had  leaned  a  few  hours  since,  was  still 
open.  There  was  her  little  book  case,  her  wri 
ting  table,  and  the  cup  of  roses  on  it,  just  as  El 
len  had  gathered  them  in  the  morning.  Ellen 
too  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  her  couch 
Her  glance  again  turned  to  the  pillow.  /  It  was 
no  vision.  That  eye  was  still  on  hers. ?  There 
was  a  quick  and  searching  glance,  one  wild  burst 
of  ecstasy,  and  the  long  parted  sisters  were 
folded  in  each  other's  embrace.  They  who  had 
separated  amid  the  splendor  of  the  far  distant 
castle,  were  again  united  in  a  lowly  cottage  be 
yond  the  ocean. 

"  Eveline,  my  blessed  sister !  say  that  you  will 
part  no  more  from  me.  I  have  come  over  the 
wide  waters  to  see  you.  Eveline,  do  not  call  for 
me  again  so  mournfully.  You  are  not  indeed  for 
gotten  ;  all  that  have  ever  loved  you,  love  you  as 
tenderly  now.  Dear  sister,  this  is  no  place  for 
one  like  you  to  languish  and  die ;  you  shall  go 
back  with  us  to  our  father's  house,  and  we  will  all 
love  and  cherish  you." 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM.  173 

The  lady  calmly  gazed  upon  the  fresh  and 
blooming  countenance  of  her  sister.  "  No — no, 
Julia,"  she  replied,  "  I  shall  go  no  more  hence, 
till  I  go  to  my  long  home,  my  bright  home  in 
heaven.  Do  not  weep,  dear  sister,  that  I  am  dy 
ing,  for  my  heavenly  Father  hath  at  last  made 
death  lovely,  even  to  me." 

"Do  not  think  of  dying,  Eveline,"  replied  the 
lady,  with  a  shudder.  "  Now  that  fearful  slum 
ber  is  off,  your  eye  is  bright,  and  your  cheek  far 
more  rosy  than  when  I  saw  you  last.  Oh,  Eveline, 
you  mustnoi  die." 

At  that  moment  Ellen  approached  from  the 
door. 

"They  have  desired  to  know  if  they  may  see 
the  Lady  Eveline,"  she  whispered  in  the  ear  of 
the  sister.  "  I  have  told  them  that  we  thought 
her  dying." 

Julia  regarded  her  with  a  look  of  agony.  "  Look 
at  that  beautiful  color  on  her  cheek,"  she  whis 
pered,  "you  are  surely  dreaming." 

Ellen  shook  her  head  mournfully.  "I  have 
known  it  long,  my  Lady,  it  is  only  the  hectic 
flush.  Does  she  sleep?"  and  she  bent  her  head 
a  moment  to  the  pillow. 

"  No,  dear  Ellen,"  murmured  the  lady  faintly. 
*'  Of  whom  were  you  speaking  ?" 

'•'  Eveline,"  said  her  sister,  in  a  voice  almost 
choked  with  emotion,  "I  came  not  alone  to  see 
you,  some  whom  you  once  loved,  are  now 
in  the  next  apartment ;  but  you  are  wea 
ried ;  shall  they  wait  till  morning?"  For  a  mo 
ment  strange  energy  seemed  given  to  her  frame, 
her  voice  was  strong,  and  she  almost  raised  her 
self  from  her  pillow. 

"  Speak  not  of  to-morrow,  Julia,  those  whom 
15* 


174  THE  FAIR  PILGRIM, 

I  would  see  again  on  earth,  I  must  see  now, 
There  was  one  over  the  wave  whom  my  unwean- 

ed  affections  have  strangely  clung  to,  and" 

At  this  moment  the  door  gently  opened,  and 
the  forms  of  her  dearly  remembered  brother, 
and  of  him  who  had  long  ago  loved  her,  arrested 
her  eye. 

The  soul  of  the  dying  Eveline,  was  now  at 
peace.  Earth's  visions  were  indeed  over;  but 
the  tones  of  human  love  were  still  sweet  to  her 
ear.  In  one  short  hour  from  the  time  when  she 
had  deemed  herself  a  forgotten  exile,  the  forms 
of  brother,  and  sister,  and  friend,  surrounded 
her  couch,  and  her  dying  moments  were  cheered 
and  sweetened,  with  the  kindest  endearments  of 
earthly  affection. 

For  a  few  moments,  she  spoke  with  earnestness, 
and  told  them  of  the  strong  depths  of  her  affec 
tion  for  them,  and  prayed  them  to  bear  her  dying 
blessing  to  her  father.  Of  heaven,  too,  she  spoke, 
and  of  the  beauty  and  holiness  of  that  religion 
she  had  so  honored,  and  besought  them  by  the 
strength  of  the  love  which  had  led  them  over  the 
deep,  to  meet  her  in  that  world.  And  just  as  her 
beloved  Ellen  had  bent  to  kiss  her  brow,  while 
she  breathed  the  assurances  of  her  grateful  affec 
tion,  and  her  eye  was  yet  bright  with  feeling,  the 
eye  closed,  the  voice  ceased,  and  something  like 
a  beautiful  and  placid  sleep,  settled  on  her  fea 
tures.  The  spirit  was  in  heaven,  and  they  who 
had  come  so  far  to  bear  the  lady  to  her  princely 
home,  soon  bore  her  in  sorrow  to  her  long  resting 
place,  among  the  tombs  of  the  Pilgrims. 


CASTINE. 


CASTINE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


"  SATURDAY  night  and  Lucy  not  yet  returned," 

exclaimed  the  minister  of  H ,  in  a  severe  and 

impatient  tone,  as  he  lingered  at  the  open  door 
of  his  dwelling.  The  sun  was  down,  but  a  few 
clouds  still  glowed  in  the  red  and  beautiful  light, 
and  the  little  valley  beneath,  the  sweet  village  of 
H with  its  fields  and  gardens,  was  still  beau 
tiful  in  the  last  flush  of  brightness.  Yet  to  the 
dwellers  in  that  quiet  vale,  the  weekly  season  of 
care  and  toil  was  already  past,  the  sacredness  of 
the  sabbath  had  come  upon  them,  amid  the  gath 
ering  shadows  of  the  early  twilight. 

The  minister  still  leaned  in  the  door,  looking 
anxiously  down  the  silent  streets,  while  the  dusk 
of  evening  was  advancing,  and  the  lights  began 
to  gleam  through  the  village.  "  Methinks  our 
daughter  is  becoming  wayward  and  careless  of 
late,"  he  continued  as  he  closed  the  door,  with  a 
displeased  countenance,  and  turned  again  into 
the  parlor. 

Mrs.  Everett  was  at  that  moment  placing  a 
lamp  upon  the  stand,  beside  the  bible  and  hymn 


178  CASTINE. 

book  that  already  adorned  it.  At  this  last  remark 
of  her  husband,  she  raised  her  mild  blue  eye  to 
his  countenance,  with  an  expression  of  some  sur 
prise.  "  Our  daughter  went  to  tarry  a  few  hours 
with  her  friend  Jane,  so  at  least  she  told  me,  and 
I  have  not  been  wont  to  doubt  her  word." 

"  But  why  does  she  linger  so  long  ?"  interrupted 
Mr.  Everett.  "  The  sun  went  down  an  hour  ago, 
and  what  will  the  congregation  say,  when  the 
minister's  daughter  profanes  holy  time  ?  And 
Sarah,"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  and  bending 
his  eye  with  a  mysterious  expression  on  the  coun 
tenance  of  Mrs.  Everett,  "  I  bode  no  good  for  the 
child  herself  at  this  hour." 

"  True,  true,"  exclaimed  the  mother,  rising  up 
hastily,  while  her  countenance  kindled  with  an 
indescribable  expression  of  maternal  anxiety. 
"  I  had  for  once  forgotten  the  Indians" 

"  No — no,  Sarah,  it  is  not  the  Indians  I  fear, 
but  a  more  deadly  enemy.  Have  you  not  noticed 
how,  from  the  time  the  young  stranger  from  the 
north  first  came  among  us,  our  Lucy's  heart  hath 
been  going  after  other  things  than  her  parents  on 
earth,  and  her  Father  in  heaven  ?  It  hath  press 
ed  upon  me  long,  that  there  is  one  whom  she 
loves  better  than  these.  Nay,  Sarah,"  he  con 
tinued,  "why  look  at  me  thus,  have  you  yourself 
seen  nothing  of  this?" 

"  Never,"  replied  the  mother.  "  Lucy  has 
never  breathed  to  me  aught  of  the  young  Cana 
dian,  and  even  when  every  one  else  is  inquiring 
into  the  cause  of  his  mysterious  appearance  and 
his  protracted  visit,  I  have  noticed  that  she  has 
been  silent.  But  if  she  has  given  you  her  confi 
dence,  surely  you  ought  not  to  have  withheld  it 
from  her  mother," 


CASTINE.  179 

"  Lucy  has  told  me  nothing,"  replied  the  cler 
gyman,  "but  I  have  watched  her  closely;  and 
when  day  after  day,  as  she  sits  with  us,  and  her 
eye  is  on  her  needle,  I  have  read  her  countenance, 
I  have  seen  that  her  soul  was  full  of  visions — not 
the  calm  visions  of  the  better  land,  but  warm,  un 
hallowed  dreams  of  earth.  I  have  seen  her  eye 
kindle,  and  her  lip  tremble  with  smiles  and  even 
unconscious  whispers  ;  and  if  I  did  but  ask  her  of 
her  thoughts,  such  a  deep  and  sudden  blush  would 
come  over  her  face,  as  a  pious  and  free  hearted 
maiden  need  never  wear.  And  I  have  seen  it  too, 
Sarah,  even  in  the  house  of  God  ;  her  eye  has  a  fix 
ed  and  vacant  gaze,  which  shows  that  her  heart 
is  not  there,  and  when  the  Canadian  comes  up  the 
aisle  her  face  grows  flushed,  even  though  she  sees 
him  not.'5 

"  Mr.  Everett,"  exclaimed  the  mother  with  un 
wonted  animation,  "  you  do  indeed  wrong  our  be 
loved  Lucy.  Little  as  1  know  of  the  schemes  and 
devices  of  the  great  world  without,  I  can  at  least 
read  that  one  gentle  spirit,  whose  every  motive 
and  feeling  I  have  so  long  studied.  I  know  that 
my  Lucy's  heart  is  a  shrine  of  pure  and  elevated 
affections" 

"Then  so  much  the  more  carefully  should  we 
guard  them,  Sarah  ;  she  has  a  wild  and  romantic 
fancy,  that  may  lead  these  affections  astray. 
There  is  something  too,  in  the  mien  and  look  of 
the  elegant  stranger,  singularly  attractive  even  to 
me." 

"  And  is  it  strange,  that  one  who  has  been  rear 
ed  amid  the  simple  retirement  of  this  little  vil 
lage,  should  not  regard  with  feelings  of  perfect 
indifference  the  accomplished  stranger  whom  you 
yourself  admire  ?" 


180  CASTING. 

"No,  Sarah — it  is  not  strange — but  wrong. 
Would  it  not  be  wrong  for  the  daughter  of  a  Pu 
ritan  minister,  to  give  away  her  heart's  best  affec 
tions  to  a  stranger,  and  a  Papist?  I  know  the 
slightest  breath  will  kindle  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
young  heart  like  hers  ;  and  do  you  trust  to  the 
strength  of  her  love  for  us,  and  for  the  pure  reli- 

§ion  in  which  she  has  been  educated  ?  Sarah, 
arah,  you  have  too  soon  forgotten  Lucy  McGre 
gor." 

Mrs.  Everett  started  as  though  some  sudden 
light  had  flashed  on  her  mind,  and  the  clergy 
man  continued  to  pace  the  floor  in  evident  agi 
tation.  "  I  do  not  say,"  he  continued,  after  a 
few  moments  silence,  "  that,  even  were  she  put 
to  the  trial,  our  beloved  child  would  ever  for 
sake  us,  to  become  the  wife  of  a  superstitious 
and  bigoted  Catholic.  I  cannot  believe  she 
would  thus  break  our  hearts ;  but,  Sarah,  years 
of  grief  taught  me  that  it  was  a  bitter  thing, 
to  throw  away,  on  some  hopeless  object,  the 
strong  ties  of  early  love.  I  know  you  think 
me  suspicious ;  but  I  have  had  cruel  lessons, 
and  he  of  whom  we  speak,  doth  strangely  re 
mind  me  of  one  whom  once  we  both  too  well 
knew." 

At  that  moment  the  little  latch  of  the  gate 
without  was  heard  to  fall.  "  Good  evening, 
sir,"  said  a  low,  subdued  voice,  and  presently 
after  the  door  of  the  parlor  opened,  and  the 
minister's  daughter  stood  before  her  parents. 

There  was  something  in  her  appearance  well 
fitted  to  strengthen  those  apprehensions,  which 
had  just  agitated  the  heart  of  the  father ;  some 
thing,  aside  from  that  extreme  beauty,  which 
in  a  world  like  this,  must  ever  excite  anxiety 


CASTINE.  181 

for  its  possessor.  She  had  closed  the  door,  and 
stood  for  a  moment  leaning  against  it,  like  one 
overcome  with  some  painful  exertion.  A  flush 
appeared  on  her  countenance,  brighter  than  the 
mere  tint  of  health  and  beauty,  and  though  her 
eye  was  downcast,  there  was  visible  some  deeply 
excited  feeling,  seeking  to  conceal  itself  beneath 
an  air  of  inditlerence. 

"  Is  this  well,  Lucy  Everett?— Is  it  well?"  said 
the  clergyman,  seating  himself  at  the  table,  and 
assuming  an  expression  of  sternness,  as  he  gazed 
on  the  countenance  of  his  beautiful  child.  There 
was  no  reply. 

"Come  hither  my  child,"  said  Mrs.  Everett, 
"  where  have  you  been,  and  why  have  you  tarried 
so  long?"  Lucy  approached  the  table,  the  flush 
deepened  on  her  countenance,  and  she  raised  her 
hand  before  her  large,  dark  eyes,  apparently  for 
the  purpose  of  shading  them  from  the  sudden 
light.  "  You  know,  mother,  I  have  been  with 
Jane  this  afternoon,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  affect 
ed  carelessness,  "and  I  was  not  aware  that  it  was 
so  late."  She  still  stood  by  the  table. 

"  But,  Lucy,  you  are  surely  not  going  out  again," 
continued  Mrs.  Everett.  "  Take  oft'  your  bonnet, 
and  come  and  sit  down  with  us.  We  have  waited 
for  you  already." 

The  young  lady  hastened  to  obey  her  mother; 
and  then  drawing  her  chair  to  the  table  near  her, 
she  leaned  her  head  upon  her  hand,  so  that  her 
features  were  entirely  concealed  from  Mr.  Everett 
by  the  dark  ringlets  that  fell  over  them,  and  at 
the  same  time  taking  up  the  little  hymn  book, 
she  opened  it  and  began  to  read  in  silence. 

"  Lucy,  my  dear,  you  may  close  the  book," 
said  Mr.  Everett,  after  a  few  moments  silence. 
16 


182  CASTINE. 

"  I  have  a  few  simple  questions  to  be  answered/ 
The  book  was  closed,  but  the  countenance  of 
the  young  lady  was  still  inclined  towards  the 
table. 

"  Lucy,  with  whom  have  you  spent  your  whole 
time  since  you  left  our  dwelling?" 

"I  have  spent  the  afternoon  with  Jane  Grant, 
sir,  as  I  have  before  assured  you," — replied  the 
maiden. 

"  And  was  it  Jane  Grant  who  accompanied  you 
to  the  gate  ?"  said  her  father,  bending  his  face 
towards  hers.  There  was  no  reply.  "  Lucy," 
he  continued,  raising  his  voice  and  speaking  with 
much  earnestness,  "  they  who  walk  with  you  at 
this  late  hour,  must  be  no  strangers  to  me.  I 
must  know  why  you  have  lingered  so  long  abroad, 
profaning  the  sacredness  of  holy  time  in  unhal 
lowed  ramblings." 

"  The  sun  was  far  above  the  hill,  sir,  when  I 
left  the  village,  but  I  came  by  the  forest  path; 
and  it  was  later  than  I  had  imagined  it  would  be 
when  1  left  the  valley." 

"Ah,  Lucy,  but  you  came  not  alone.  Would 
you  deceive  me  ?"  The  anguish  evinced  by  the 
father  as  he  uttered  these  words,  seemed  only  to 
increase  the  agitation  of  the  daughter;  for  a  few 
moments  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
while  tear  after  tear  moistened  her  cheek. 

"  My  father,"  she  at  length  said,  raising  her  eye, 
and  assuming  an  appearance  of  calmness,  "he 
who  came  with  me  through  the  forest  path  this 
evening,  was  the  young  Catholic  stranger."  Her 
voice  trembled,  and  she  paused. 

"  And  how  long,"  said  Mr.  Everett,  with  a  for 
ced  calmness,  "  since  this  Papist  youth  has  been 
the  chosen  companion  of  your  walks  ?" 


CASTINE.  183 

An  expression  of  unwonted  pride  curled  the  lip 
of  Lucy  Everett.  "  By  accident,  sir,  I  found 
myself  this  evening  intrusted  with  the  life  of 
this  stranger — and  Papist  though  he  is,  I  re 
joice  that  no  pride,  or  foolish  delicacy  prevented 
me  from  fulfilling  my  duty.  My  father,  I  have 
not  been  wont  to  deceive  you,  but  more  I  cannot 
and  must  not  tell  you,  for  I  promised,  as  I  myself 
hope  for  kindness,  that  I  would  not." 

Mr.  Everett  gazed  on  her  countenance  with  un 
feigned  astonishment.  He  could  not  for  a  mo 
ment  doobt  her  sincerity,  and  though  every  word 
of  her  explanation  had  only  deepened  the  mys 
tery,  there  was  that  in  her  countenance  which 
at  once  convinced  him  that  further  inquiries  were 
useless. 

The  next  morning  was  the  sabbath,  and  a  more 
beautiful  one  never  dawned  on  the  earth.  Ttie 
dwelling  of  the  minister  was  considerably  remote 
from  the  village,  and  just  at  the  foot  of  a  little 
liill,  covered  with  evergreen  woods.  In  front, 
the  ground  was  gradually  descending,  and  the 
green  slope  was  occasionally  diversified  with 
neat  houses  and  gardens.  A  distinct  view  could 
also  be  had  from  the  front  window,  of  the  church 
spire  in  the  valley  below,  and  the  small  cluster  of 
houses  surrounding  it,  which  had  received  the 
appellation  of  "the  village."  It  was  May,  the 
air  was  exceedingly  soft  and  fragrant,  and  Lucy 
Everett  had  thrown  open  the  window  of  the  little 
parlor,  and  stood  leaning  over  the  sash,  gathering 
a  bunch  of  roses  from  the  bush  beneath.  She 
had  just  spread  the  damask  treasure  on  the  win 
dow  seat,  and  was  endeavoring  to  arrange  them 
in  a  graceful  bouquet,  when  the  sound  of  the  "first 
bell"  came  swelling  in  clear  and  solemn  notes, 


184  CASTING. 

from  the  valley  below.  At  that  moment,  Mrs. 
Everett  entered  the  room.  Lucy  perceived  at 
once  that  there  was  something  unusual  in  the 
manner  of  her  mother.  A  deep  shade  of  sadness 
hung  over  her  usually  placid  brow,  and  her  eye 
was  moist  with  tears ;  but  the  daughter  dared  not 
ask  the  cause  of  her  disquietude,  lest  it  should 
lead  to  a  recurrence  of  embarrassing  inquiries. 

Lucy  was  sitting  in  the  window,  and  Mrs.  Eve 
rett,  after  taking  from  a  locker  near  the  door  a 
small  and  closely  wrapped  case  of  ivory,  ap 
proached  and  seated  herself  beside  her.  Cover 
ing  after  covering  was  removed,  she  slowly  un 
clasped  the  case,  and  at  length  Lucy  perceived 
that  her  mother  was  gazing  with  looks  of  intense 
emotion,  upon  a  small  miniature  picture.  It  was 
set  in  gold  and  brilliants,  and  she  felt  her  curios 
ity  strongly  excited  concerning  the  object  which 
had  power  to  awaken  such  agitating  interest,  in  so 
placid  a  spirit. 

"  God  forgive  me,"  murmured  the  mother,  with 
a  strong  effort,  at  last  subduing  her  feelings. 
"  These  idle  tears  do  ill  become  the  sacredness 
of  an  hour  like  this.  It  was  not  to  mourn  for  the 
long  perished  flower  of  Glenville  that  I  made  this 
effort  but  for  the  living — God  be  praised,  my  own 
Lucy  Everett  is  yet  among  the  living.  My 
daughter,  you  are  opening  again  in  our  hearts, 
wounds  which  long  years  have  scarce  had  power 
to  heal,  and  much  I  fear,  beginning  to  cast  away 
from  your  confidence,  the  counsellors  whom  God 
hath  given  you.  Child,  child,  you  are  standing 
strong  in  the  might  of  your  own  frail  spirit,  but 
look  you  here,  if  one  like  this  should  fall,  why 
should  Lucy  Everett,  standing  on  the  same  brink, 
be  fearless  of  evil  ?" 


CASTINE.  185 

As  she  spoke,  she  placed  the  miniature  before 
the  eye  of  her  daughter,  and  every  other  feeling 
was  at  once  forgotten  in  admiration  of  its  beauty. 
It  was  the  picture  of  a  young  maiden,  apparently 
not  more  than  sixteen  ;  and  such  a  look  or  sweet 
ness  and  innocence,  Lucy  felt  she  had  never  be 
fore  beheld.  The  beautiful  lips  were  parted  with 
smiles;  and  she  met  and  returned  the  speaking 
glance  of  that  soft  blue  eye,  till  a  living  spirit 
seemed  before  her,  one  that  had  known  no  sor 
row  and  no  sin,  yet  meek,  and  mild,  and  rich  in 
all  the  depths  of  human  tenderness. 

"  And  so  young  and  beautiful,"  exclaimed  Lucy, 
as  with  feelings  of  intense  admiration  she  still  con 
tinued  to  gaze  upon  it.  "  Blessed  spirit !  Who 
would  dream  that  sorrow  and  death  were  your 
destiny?"  and  the  warm  tears  of  pity  fell  un 
heeded  over  the  smiling  features  of  the  pic 
ture. 

"  And  why  mourn,  daughter,"  replied  Mrs. 
Everett,  "  for  the  vain  and  fleeting  beauty  that 
hath  long  since  perished  from  the  earth  ?  Think 
of  the  gem  within — the  living  imperishable  spirit 

that  was  dimmed  and  broken  within" Her 

voice  faultered.  It  was  only  for  a  moment  and 
then  in  her  usual  calm,  impressive  tones,  she 
commenced  her  narrative. 

"Lucy  McCregor  was  the  companion  of  my 
early  youth,  and  alas,  the  idol  too,  to  which  I  of 
fered  up  those  affections  of  the  soul  that  belong 
alone  to  the  Almighty.  She  was  your  father's 
cousin,  and  but  a  child  when  I  first  saw  and  loved 
her.  At  that  period  she  came  to  her  uncle's  house 
in  England,  an  unprotected  orphan,  from  the 
Scottish  hills.  He  received  and  cherished  her 
as  his  own  child,  and  to  your  father  she  was  ever 
16* 


186  CASTINE. 

as  a  sister,  only  and  well-beloved — perhaps  even 
more.  They  were  both  bred  together  in  the  doc 
trines  of  the  Puritans.  Lucy  McGregor  had 
been  taught  all  those  pure  and  sacred  precepts, 
which  we  have  sought  to  instil  into  your  mind — 
she  was  gentle  and  docile,  and  seemed  to  return 
in  full  measure  the  love  that  was  so  freely  lavished 
upon  her;  but,  Lucy,  hear  me — she  whom  we  had 
deemed  so  affectionate  and  pious,  at  last  died  an 
alien  from  the  church,  and  from  those  who  had 
loved  her  as  their  own  souls." 

An  involuntary  exclamation  burst  from  the  lip 
of  her  auditress,  but  Mrs.  Everett  continued  her 
narrative. 

"  Even  from  the  period  when  she  first  came 
among  us,  with  the  blue  eye  and  golden  hair  of 
her  clime,  Lucy  was  ever  one  that  the  world  call 
ed  beautiful.  God  had  endowed  her  too  with  a 
mind  of  noble  powers,  and  with  a  rich  and  rare 
gift  of  winning  to  herself  the  hearts  of  her  fellow 
creatures.  Ah  !  '  How  did  the  gold  become  dim, 
and  the  most  fine  gold  changed  !'  Ere  Lucy  had 
attained  her  nineteenth  year,  the  noble  family  of 

C first  took  up  their  residence  in  our  vicinity. 

And  from  this  period  did  we  date  the  beginning 
of  that  misery  which  afterwards  overwhelmed  our 
hearts  ;  for,  daughter,  mark  me — from  this  period 
did  our  Lucy  first  delight  in  the  company  of  the 
unholy,  the  vain  and  proud  ones  of  the  world, 
more  than  in  the  lowly  and  despised  whom  God 
hath  chosen  out  ef  the  world ;  from  this  period 
did  she  begin  to  contemn  the  restraints  of  her 
pious  home,  the  hedge  with  which  God  in  mercy 
had  guarded  the  way  of  her  youth.  I  cannot  tell 
you  now  how  step  by  step  this  change  was 
wrought;  indeed  it  had  proceeded  far,  ere  those 


CA8TINE.  1S7 

who  of  all  others  should  have  shared  her  confi 
dence,  were  at  all  aware  of  its  existence.  The 
family  of  the  castle  had  seen  and  admired  her  for 
her  beauty,  and  they  were  not  long  in  learning, 
that  notwithstanding  her  present  lowly  lot,  Lucy 
McGregor  was  the  daughter  of  an  ancient  Scot 
tish  clan,  and  that  the  name  of  many  a  renowned 
chieftain  graced  her  lineage. 

"Among  the  persons  of  distinction  who  visited 
the  castle,  there  came  one — a  youth  from  a  for 
eign  land,  whom  Lucy  regarded  with  deep  in 
terest ;  mayhap  such  as  Lucy  Everett  cherishes 
for  this  unknown  Catholic.  To  enter  into  any 
particulars  concerning  him,  would  surely  lead  to 
details  and  feelings  unbefitting  this  holy  day; 
some  hour  less  sacred  I  may  tell  you  all.  Suffice 
it  then,  my  daughter,  that  though  of  the  blood 
which  men  call  noble,  he  of  whom  I  speak  was 
of  a  light  and  profane  spirit,  and  withal  a  proud 
contemner  of  4  the  faith  once  delivered  unto  the 
saints.' 

"  Meanwhile  we  all  saw,  and  mourned  in  secret, 
that  the  orphan's  heart  was  becoming  estranged 
from  her  early  home,  and  the  friends  of  her  child 
hood.  Solitude  was  preferred  to  the  company 
she  once  held  so  dear;  her  joyful  laugh  was  no 
more  heard  among  us ;  she  seemed  looking  forth 
to  some  brighter  destiny  than  our  love  could  give 
her.  The  stranger  at  length  sought  her  hand  of 
her  uncle  and  guardian,  and  was  refused ;  for, 
Lucy,  how  think  you  could  a  minister  of  the  true 
faith,  thus  give  up  the  child  of  his  affections  and 
prayers,  to  a  stranger  and  a  Papist,  high-born 
though  he  was,  and  gifted  in  all  worldly  graces  ? 

"  At  length  it  was  rumored  through  our  dwel 
lings,  that  the  castle  was  soon  to  be  deserted  of 


188  CASTING. 

its  gay  occupants,  and  we  all  rejoiced — all  save 
Lucy.  The  day  after  their  departure,  I  set  out 
once  more  for  my  wonted  visit  to  the  inhabitants 
of  a  few  poor  hamlets,  that  lay  at  no  great  distance 
from  our  village.  It  was  nearly  sunset  ere  my 
return,  and  my  path  lay  through  an  unfrequented 
and  solitary  lane,  it  was  therefore  with  surprise 
that  when  arrived  within  a  mile  of  our  dwelling, 
I  perceived  a  lady  in  a  rich  traveling  dress,  rapidly 
approaching  me.  She  was  closely  veiled,  and 
yet  there  was  something  in  her  form  and  move 
ments  strangely  familiar.  '  Lucy  McGregor,'  I 
exclaimed,  recognizing  her  with  astonishment,  as 
trusting  to  her  disguise  she  endeavored  to  pass 
me  unnoticed.  I  threw  my  arm  around  her  and  an 
undefined  foreboding  of  evil  almost  overpowered 
me.  My  apprehensions  indeed  were  not  with 
out  reason.  Upon  the  plea  of  illness,  Lucy  had 
for  some  days  past  excused  herself  from  the 
company  of  her  friends,  and  the  excessive  pale 
ness  of  her  face,  as  I  drew  the  veil  from  it, 
convinced  me  that  her  indisposition  was  not 
feigned.  But  this  only  rendered  the  circum 
stance  of  her  present  appearance  yet  more  sus 
picious.  I  intreated  her  to  return  with  me. 

'  No — no,  Sarah,'  she  replied,  with  a  strange 
smile,  '  I  cannot  go  back — it  is  too  late  now.' 
Unable  to  understand  her,  with  a  painful  op 
pression  at  my  heart,  I  walked  by  her  side  in 
silence.  At  length,  in  some  measure  suppres 
sing  my  feelings,  I  endeavored  to  speak  of 
the  pleasure  we  should  experience  in  resum 
ing  our  excursions  to  the  hamlet  I  had  just 
visited,  for  the  vicinity  of  the  many  gay  youth 
at  the  castle,  had  for  some  time  past  interrupt 
ed  them ;  but  suddenly  a  long  and  agonizing 


CASTINK.  189 

sigh,  caused  me  to  stop.  She  was  leaning 
against  the  stile,  her  face  pale  as  the  snow- 
wreath  of  her  native  hills,  and  there  beamed 
from  it  such  an  expression  of  indescribable  ag 
ony,  as  I  trust  these  eyes  may  never  again  wit 
ness. 

*  It  is  too  late  now — too  late/  she  repeated 
in  the  same  despairing  tones.  *  I  am  no  lon 
ger  Lucy  McGregor."  There  was  a  pause, 
and  then  came  the  fearful  truth.  She  whom  I 
saw  before  me  was  the  wife,  yes  the  true  and 
plighted  wife  of  the  Catholic  stranger.  'But 
I  have  loved  you  and  my  cousin,  and  my  more 
than  father,'  she  continued,  without  regarding 
my  amazement,  '  how  fervently  I  may  not  now 
tell  you,  but  I  have  been  dazzled — blinded  and 
deceived — there  is  no  more  happiness  for  me." 
"  And  now  on  looking  up,  we  perceived  a 
stately  equipage  coming  down  the  hill  before 
us.  Then  did  IJintreat,  and  pray — aye,  on  my 
bended  knees  I  besought  her,  by  the  love  I  had 
borne  her  from  our  childhood,  by  her  duty  to  the 
friends  that  still  lived,  and  by  the  tears  and  pray 
ers  of  those  who  were  already  in  heaven,  not  for 
the  sake  of  a  few  fleeting  honors,  thus  to  cast 
away  the  blessing  of  God — but  it  was  in  vain," 
continued  Mrs.  Everett,  wiping  away  the  dew 
which  even  the  remembrance  of  that  long  past 
agony  had  gathered  on  her  brow.  "  It  was  in 
vain.  One  long,  bitter  farewell  she  wept  upon 
my  neck,  and  1  saw  her  no  more.  Three  years 
after  this,  Lucy  Me  Gregor  died  among  strangers 
in  a  strange  land,  and  the  prayers  of  the  corrupt 
ed  priests  were  murmured  over  the  departed 
spirit  of  one,  who  from  her  infancy  had  been 


190  CASTINE. 

nursed  in  the  purity  of  the  true  religion.  Many 
years  we  mourned  for  her  in  bitterness  of  spirit, 
and  he  who  had  been  to  her  as  a  second  father 
died,  and  for  her  his  grey  hairs  went  down  in 
sorrow  to  the  grave." 

Mrs.  Everett  paused,  and  now  the  bell  sound 
ing  again  from  the  distant  valley,  announced  the 
hour  of  morning  service. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  duties  of  the  sabbath  were  over,  and  the 
shades  of  twilight  were  softening  the  beauty  of 
the  landscape,  when  Mrs.  Everett  and  her  daugh 
ter  went  forth,  as  they  were  wont  to  do  of  a  sab 
bath  evening,  to  walk  a  few  moments  among  the 
large  old  elms  that  shaded  the  path  to  the  village. 
They  were  both  silent.  Mrs.  Everett's  usually 
gentle  spirit  had  been  deeply  agitated  both  by 
the  task  she  had  that  morning  imposed  upon  her 
self,  and  by  the  mysterious  conduct  of  her  daugh 
ter  ;  and  it  was  evident  she  had  not  yet  recovered 
her  composure.  Lucy  herself  was  apparently 
the  subject  of  some  stronger  excitement  than  the 
tale  of  Lucy  McGregor  alone  could  have  aroused  ; 
she  had  several  times  essayed  to  speak,  but  the 
words  died  on  her  lips. 

"This  is  a  lonely  path  at  evening,"  she  at 
length  remarked,  as  if  seeking  to  draw  the  con 
versation  to  the  subject  of  her  late  mysterious 
conduct,  but  the  observation  failed  of  its  effect. 
The  silence  still  continued.  "  Mother,"  said 
Lucy,  with  a  sudden  effort,  "  I  fear  I  have  ap 
peared  to  you  an  undutiful  child.  You  would 
not  have  told  me  the  sorrowful  story  of  Lucy 
McGregor,  had  you  not  believed  me  in  danger 
of  some  strange  offence.  But  you  are  mistaken. 


192  CASTINE. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  I  am  more  innocent 
than  was  Lucy  McGregor,"  she  hesitated  and 
blushed  deeply,  "but  I  have  no  temptation  placed 
before  me,  I  mean  none  like  those  which  led  her 
astray." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Everett,  gazing  full  upon 
her  countenance,  "  can  you  say  that  your  feelings 
are  not  at  all  interested  in  the  stranger,  who  was 
as  you  yourself  acknowledge,  the  companion  of 
your  walk  last  evening  ?" 

There  was  a  short  silence.  "  No,  mother,  I 
will  not  say  it,  I  am  deeply  interested  in  this 
youth,  not  merely  because  of  the  mystery  that 
hangs  over  his  name  and  character."  She  added 
with  much  earnestness,  "No,  mother,  it  is  because 
his  safety,  nay,  his  life,  has  been  placed  by  acci 
dent  in  my  own  hand." 

Mrs.  Everett  paused  in  astonishment.  "  Do 
you  speak  only  to  tantalize  my  curiosity,  Lucy, 
or  am  I  to  look  for  some  explanation  of  your 
words?" 

"To  you,  my  dear  mother,"  replied  the  young 
lady,  "I  can  confide  this  secret.  To  my  father 
1  have  promised  that  I  would  not,  even  as  I 
valued  the  life  of  the  stranger.  You  will  not 
betray  it,  mother,  even  to  him  ?" 

"  Not  if  you  have  promised,  Lucy,  but  methinks 
you  were  exceedingly  imprudent  to  make  such 
engagements.  Do  not,  however,  delay  any  longer 
the  explanation  of  this  mystery." 

"You  know  then,  mother,"  continued  Lucy, 
with  a  slight  embarrassment  in  her  manner, 
"  Jane's  home  is  situated  so  far  out  of  the  village, 
that  the  path  through  the  woods  is  almost  as  di 
rect  as  this.  1  have  always  chosen  it  because  it 


CASTINE.  193 

is  far  more  quiet  and  pleasant.     I  mean  always 
till— of  late." 

"And  why  have  you  abandoned  it  of  late  ?"  said 
lier  mother. 

"  Because  I  had  reason  to  believe  it  was  a  fa 
vorite  place  of  resort  to  the  gentleman  we  were 
>peaking  of.  I  had  twice  met  him  there,  as  I 
supposed  by  accident,  but  Jane  Grant  soon  after 
found  in  our  little  bower  a  copy  of  French  verses 
which  I  knew  he  must  have  dropped,  and  I  can 
not  think  it  was  entirely  accidental;  for  my  own 
name  was  upon  them." 

"And  what  were  they?''  said  Mrs.  Everett  has 
tily.  "  Could  you  read  them,  Lucy  ?" 

"  I  could,  and  I  rejoiced  for  once  that  Jane 
knew  nothing  of  the  language  in  which  they  were 
written.  The  words  were  beautiful,  but  they 
were  not  true,  for  they  spoke  of  a  being  as  sinless 
and  lovely  as  t!u;  angels  of  heaven,  and  gave  to  it 
the  name  of  a  frail  and  erring  mortal.  Until  last 
evening,  I  have  never  since  walked  through  the 
woods." 

"  And  why  did  you  then  ?" 

"  Jane  was  to  accompany  me  part  of  the  way, 
and  she  insisted  upon  taking  the  forest  path.  I 
dared  not  tell  her  my  scruples,  neither  did  1  think 
it  at  all  probable  that  at  this  hour  I  should  again 
meet  the  stranger.  Jane  parted  with  me  on  the 
chestnut  knoll,  and  just  as  she  was  quite  hidden 
from  sight  atnonj;  the  trees,  on  turning  my  head 
to  the  little  arbor  we  had  fitted  up  for  our  own 
accommodation,  1  beheld  the  stranger  himself— 
he  was  standing  just  in  the  edge  of  it.  It  was 
the  third  time  we  had  met  precisely  in  the  same 
place.  I  would  have  turned,  but  I  saw  that  his 
eye  was  upon  me,  and  knew  myself  to  be  just  in 
17 


194  CASTINE. 

the  center  of  the  woods,  so  I  moved  on  with  a 
quickened  pace,  without  once  averting  my  eye 
from  the  path,  until  I  had  nearly  reached  the  edge 
of  the  thicket.  Being  exceedingly  fatigued,  I  now 
began  to  move  slower,  and  it  was  well  that  I  did. 
For  some  time  I  had  perceived  before  me  a  sin 
gular  object  lying  a  little  on  one  side  of  the  path. 
As  I  drew  near,  my  curiosity  increased ;  and  1 
was  turning  aside  a  moment  to  satisfy  it,  when  a 
slight  movement  in  the  adjoining  bushes  arrested 
my  steps.  Do  you  wonder,  dear  mother,  that  rny 
blood  ran  cold  with  horror,  when  I  found  myself 
standing  within  a  few  feet  of  a  sleeping  Indian, 
a  warrior  too,  and  armed  with  tomahawk  and 
arrows!" 

Mrs.  Everett  threw  her  arm  around  her  child, 
as  if  seeking  to  protect  her  from  the  threatened 
danger.  "  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before? 
We  must  go  home,  Lucy,"  she  continued,  "  it  is 
no  time  to  be  walking  now,"  and  she  drew  her 
daughter's  arm  in  hers,  as  they  moved  hastily  to 
wards  the  gate  of  the  cottage. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  they  had  reached  the 
porch,  and  it  was  not  until  Mrs.  Everett  had  close 
ly  locked  and  barred  the  outer  door,  that  Lucy 
found  opportunity  to  renew  her  narrative. 

"  I  was  just  hesitating  what  to  do,"  she  con 
tinued,  in  reply  to  her  mother's  inquiries,  "  when 
the  sound  of  distant  voices  met  my  ear.  They 
seemed  rapidly  approaching — retreat  was  impos 
sible  ;  if  they  were  foes,  my  only  security  lay  in 
concealment.  Mother,  have  you  ever  noticed  the 
hollow  oak  that  stands  to  the  right  of  the  path, 
just  as  you  enter  the  valley  of  wild  flowers?" 

"  Yes — yes,  go  on,"  said  Mrs.  Everett  with  im 
patience. 


C1STINE.  195 

"  It  was  only  a  few  rods  behind  me,"  continued 
Lucy,  "and  I  was  soon  concealed  within  it.  The 
voices  had  all  the  time  been  approaching,  and 
were  now  so  near  that  I  could  distinctly  distin 
guish  their  words  ;  I  was  surprised  too  to  perceive 
that  they  spoke  in  French." 

"  And  who  were  they,  Lucy,  and  what  did  they 
say?"  inquired  Mrs.  Everett,  whose  interest  in 
the  narrative  had  every  moment  increased. 

"  Who  they  were,  mother,  t  do  not  know,"  re 
plied  Lucy,  "  but  as  to  their  words,  I  remember 
them  as  distinctly  as  though  I  had  but  this  moment 
heard  them." 

"  Hertel  de  Rouville,"  said  the  first  voice,  "  he 
is  a  noble  and  gallant  youth  ;  we  should  be  well 
convinced  thut  he  is  a  traitor,  ere  we  come  to 
such  desperate  measures." 

"And  what  do  you  call  noble  and  gallant^' 
exclaimed  the  other  and  rougher  tone.  "If  to 
betray  to  the  enemy  the  counsels  of  his  party,  is 
noble,  I  grant  you  that  he  is  so;  if  to  fold  up  his 
arms,  and  sit  down  in  the  camp  of  the  foe,  is  gal 
lant,  I  grant  you,  he  is  a  gallant  youth." 

"  But,  De  Rouville,"  continued  the  first  voice, 
"  what  proof  have  you  that  he  has  betrayed  our 
counsels?  I  thought  that  Vandreuil  himself  des 
patched  him  to  the  enemy." 

"  As  a  spy,  not  as  a  traitor,"  replied  the  other. 
"  His  orders  were  to  go  from  one  end  of  New- 
England  to  the  other,  to  seek  its  weak  and  de 
fenceless  points  of  attack,  to  reconnoitre  its  strong 
places,  and  sec  where  the  ambushed  foe  might 
best  hide  themselves;  and  Vandreuil  is  informed 
that  he  lingers  here  to  obtain  an  opportunity  of 
opening  our  plans  to  the  governor.  At  all  events," 
he  continued  in  a  lower  tone,  "Vandreuil  assures 


J96  CASTINE. 

me  that  a  little  of  this  same  gallant's  blood  will 
contribute  materially  to  the  betterment  of  our 
cause,  that  is,  if  secretly  drawn;  and  Hertel  de 
Rouville  is  not  the  man  wh  >  hesitates  at  his  bid 
ding.  But  if  you  have  any  scruples,  Beaumont," 
he  added,  with  a  tone  of  half  suppressed  laugh 
ter,  "  we  will  call  on  the  old  Penobscot  priests  for 
absolution/' 

"The  other  voice  now  became  so  low  that  I 
could  scarcely  distinguish  the  words,  but  I  soon 
perceived  that  they  were  speaking  of  the  sleeping 
Indian." 

"  No,  Beaumont,  do  not  arouse  him  yet,"  said 
the  rougher  voice.  "  Wait  till  the  victim  is  in 
sight,  he  will  only  trouble  us.  I  know  that  he  is 
in  the  forest ;  and,  I  believe,  in  this  vicinity.  Un 
less  he  is  previously  alarmed,  he  will  undoubtedly 
pass  this  spot." 

"  I  heard  no  more  for  several  moments,  and 
ventured  carefully  to  peep  from  my  concealment. 
By  the  twilight,  I  saw  two  military  figures  repos 
ing  on  the  ground,  near  the  Indian.  Happily  their 
faces  were  from  me,  and  unless  my  tread  aroused 
them,  I  yet  hoped  to  escape.  At  length  I  found 
myself  at  such  a  distance,  that  the  shadowing 
branches  hid  me  from  their  sight.  I  paused  a 
moment,  and  considered  what  to  do.  One  sin 
gle,  foolish  moment,  I  remembered  that  the  youth 
was  a  Catholic  and  a  stranger,  and  I  a  Puritan 
maiden;  but  soon  came  better  feelings,  and  I 
shuddered  when  I  thought  of  the  blood  of  one  so 
young  and  unoffending,  poured  out  by  the  mer 
ciless  Indian.  I  resolved  to  warn  him  of  his  dan 
ger.  Mother,  was  it  wrong  ?" 

v  NO,  my  child.     It  was.  such  a  deed  as  became 


CASTINE.  197 

a  Christian  woman.     And  where  did  you  find  the 
youth  ?" 

"Near  the  spot  where  I  had  left  him.  He  was 
stretched  on  the  bank  by  the  arbor,  in  a  kind  of 
careless  repose ;  and  was  gazing  on  the  sky  with 
such  intensity,  that  he  took  no  notice  of  me  until 
I  was  near  enough  to  speak  to  him  in  a  low  voice. 
He  started  up,  and  looked  extremely  surprised. 
At  any  other  moment  pride  would  have  withheld 
me,  but  the  dreadful  conviction  of  his  danger 
rested  on  my  mind.  I  scarcely  recollect  my 
words,  but  1  remember  I  spoke  of  life  and  its 
sweetness,  for  I  felt  that  this  strange  intrusion 
needed  an  apology.  He  heard  me  with  respect 
ful  silence,  but  I  saw  he  could  scarce  conceal  his 
astonishment.  Just  then  there  was  a  slight  rust 
ling  in  the  leaves;  but  it  was  only  the  evening 
wind. 

"  Stranger,"  said  I,  "  have  you  any  deadly  ene 
mies,  any  who  seek  your  life?" 

"Doubtless  I  have,"  he  replied  with  some  agi 
tation,  "  for  I  have  found  that  deadly  enemies  are 
easily  and  quickly  made.  Dnir  lady,"  he  said,  ap 
proaching  me,  "I  see  you  have  come  on  an  er 
rand  of  mercy.  There  is  danger  then  !"  He 
paused,  and  without  waiting  for  further  inquires, 
I  hastened  to  relate  to  him  every  particular  of  the 
scene  I  had  just  witnessed.  Meanwhile  we  were 
hastening  rapidly  towards  that  part  of  the  forest, 
from  which  I  had  first  entered  ;  and  just  as  I  had 
finished  my  recital,  we  were  opposite  the  dwel 
ling  of  my  friend  Jane.  I  would  have  hastened 
in  thither  for  security  ;  but  the  stranger  forbade 
me,  even  as  I  valued  the  life  I  sought  to  save. 
The  light  from  the  window  gleamed  upon  his 
face,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  deeply  agitated. 
17* 


198  C  ASTUTE1. 

Here  we  paused  a  moment.  "  Lady,"  said  fre 
"my  life  is  a  weary  one,  and  I  have  long  deem 
ed  it  a  light  thing  to  die  ;  but  I  would  rather  find 
my  death  in  fair  and  honorable  fight,  than  fall 
unknown  and  unwept  into  the  secret  grave  that 
Vandreuil  has  prepared  for  me.  A  temporary 
concealment  is  now  my  only  security.  When 
the  enemy  find  their  search  here  fruitless,  tiiey 
will  pursue  me  in  some  other  place  of  my  resort, 
and  were  I  to  fly,  I  might  probably  fall  into  their 
hands." 

"Then  come  to  my  father's  house,"  said  I,  "he 
is  kind  and  noble  hearted,  and  would  sooner  die 
than  betray  you. 

"He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  then  mournfully 
shaking  his  head,  "  No — no.  It  will  not  be  safe," 
he  said.  "Your  father  must  never  know  of  my 
concealment, — promise  me  that  he  shall  not." 
The  safety  of  my  mysterious  companion  was  now 
my  only  object,  and  solemnly  and  unhesitatingly 
I  promised  it.  "But  you  must  not  linger  here," 
I  added,  "  you  need  concealment  until  the  pur 
suit  is  over;  and  I  will  seek  it  for  you,  even  at 
the  risk  of  my  father's  displeasure."  We  were 
now  walking  through  the  village,  and  I  quickly 
revolved  in  my  mind  the  various  places  of  con 
cealment  with  which  I  was  familiar.  I  knew 
there  was  one  on  the  pine  hill  behind  us,  singu 
larly  well  calculated  for  our  purpose,  for  in 
our  childish  games  it  had  often  afforded  me 
a  secure  hiding  place.  I  described  it  to  the 
stranger,  so  that  he  could  not  mistake  it,  and  we 
parted  at  the  gate.  Mother,  have  I  not  accounted 
to  you  for  all  that  seemed  wrong  in  my  conduct  ?" 

"But,  my  child,  think  of  the  engagements  you 
hare  made,  to  conceal  the  whole  from  your  father  t 


CASTINE.  199 

The  conversation  in  the  forest  was  full  of  strange 
meaning,  and  ought  not  to  be  withheld  from  him. 
And,  Lucy,  who  can  this  stranger  be,  who  seems 
a  person  of  so  much  importance  to  the  Canadian 
Governor,  and  why  should  he  fear  so  benevolent 
a  man  as  your  father?  If  he  were  innocent,  sure 
he  need  not  fear  him.  Who  knows  but  this  very 
stranger  whom  you  are  secreting  without  his 
knowledge,  may  be  plotting  our  ruin  r" 

"Oh,  no, "exclaimed  the  young  lady,  repressing 
a  cold  thrill  of  suspicion,  "  it  cannot  be — lie  is  too 
frank  and  generous  for  treachery.  Mother,  do  not 
betray  him.  I  know  [  have  involved  myself  in  a 
strange  task,  and  yet  if  I  had  refused  it,  the  tom 
ahawk  of  the  Indian  would  even  now  have  been 
stained  with  his  blood." 

"  But  did  you  make  no  engagements  of  further 
assistance  ?"  said  Mrs.  Everett. 

''Only  that  I  would  obtain  all  possible  intelli 
gence  of  his  foe,  and  convey  the  first  news  to  the 
place  of  his  retreat."  But  at  that  moment  Mr. 
Everett's  voice  was  heard  in  an  adjoining  room, 
and  presently  after  his  entrance  put  a  period  to 
their  conversation. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  ensuing  day  was  spent  by  Lucy  Everett 
in  efforts  to  obtain  further  intelligence  of  the 
Canadian  officer  and  his  associates.  For  this 
purpose,  she  had  extended  her  walk  to  the  village, 
calling  upon  those  persons  of  her  acquaintance 
whose  situation  or  character  rendered  them  most 
familiar  with  the  floating  news  of  the  day.  She 
could  not  believe  that  the  conspirators  would 
abandon  their  object,  without  first  instituting  a 
search  among  the  inhabitants,  and  thus  afford  her 
an  opportunity  of  ascertaining  something  con 
cerning  their  future  plans. 

It  was  about  noon,  and  Lucy  was  returning  per 
plexed  and  disappointed,  when  her  eye  was  arrest 
ed  by  the  appearance  of  a  genteel  looking  stran 
ger,  sitting  in  the  half  opened  door  of  a  small 
dwelling,  which  she  was  that  moment  passing. 
The  circumstance  was  enough  to  awaken  her 
curiosity,  and  she  determined  not  to  pass  until 
she  had  learned  whether  the  appearance  of  Mrs. 
Marsden's  guest,  did  not  in  some  way  affect  the 
object  of  her  solicitude.  The  face  of  the  stran 
ger  was  turned  from  the  door,  and  she  heard  the 
voice  of  the  good  woman  loud  within.  Unwillkig 
to  intrude  without  some  precaution,  she  paused  a 
moment  before  the  bars,  at  the  same  time  calling 


CASTING.  201 

to  a  little  flaxen  headed  hoy  who  was  playing 
within  the  enclosure.  He  had  thrown  down  his 
kite  and  with  a  delighted  air  was  approaching  the 
young  lady  when  Mrs.  Marsden  herself  appeared 
in  the  door. 

"Come  in,  come  in,  Miss  Everett/'  she  repeat 
ed  in  a  tone  of  good  natured  intreaty.  And  the 
little  hoy  threw  down  the  bars  which  guarded  the 
entrance. 

Lucy  needed  no  further  invitation.  Upon  her 
entrance  the  stranger  had  risen  and  seated  him 
self  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  apartment  and 
seemed  studiously  to  avoid  notice.  But  Mrs. 
Marsden  allowed  no  lime  for  conjectures,  and 
notwithstanding  the  variety  of  her  cares  and  em 
ployments  continued  to  pour  forth  such  a  strain 
of  inquiries  that  the  only  alternative  was  silence. 
At  length  she  paused  a  moment,  and  Lucy  was 
proceeding  as  concisely  as  possible  to  satisfy  her 
curiosity. 

"  But  do  you  know,  Miss  Lucy,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Marsden  quickly  interrupting  her,  "  that  the 
stranger  gentleman  across  the  way  has  left  his 
lodgings  and  gone  nobody  knows  where,  just  as 
his  friend  here,  has  come  in  search  of  him." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  Lucy  in  a  low  voice,  while  the 
color  mounted  high  in  her  cheek,  and  she  directed 
•i  sidelong  glance  to  the  gentlemen  in  the  corner. 
Tie  was  leaning  his  chair  against  the  wall,  his 
arms  folded  and  his  eye  fixed  intensely  on  the 
floor;  but  notwithstanding  the  smile  which  play 
ed  on  his  features,  Lucy  discovered  at  once  sue  h 
an  expression  of  covert  ferocity,  that  she  turned 
away  shuddering,  and  prepared  to  doubt  the  au 
thenticity  of  any  thing  she  might  have  heard  in 
his  favor. 


202  CASTING. 

"  Since  Saturday  evening,"  continued  Mrs. 
Marsden,  "  the  young  gentleman  has  been  absent, 
and  his  friend  here  is  sadly  concerned  for  him." 

"  He  left  no  word  then,  where  he  was  going," 
said  Lucy  with  a  painful  effort. 

"None  at  all,  ma'am.  He  did  not  even  men 
tion  that  he  was  going,  and  his  trunk  and  papers 
are  all  there.  I  am  sure  he  will  return  soon," 
she  continued  turning  to  the  stranger,  "  for  he 
has  several  times  gone  off  suddenly,  before  this, 
and  never  stayed  but  a  few  days." 

"  And  do  you  know  whither  he  went  ?"  said  the 
stranger  lifting  up  his  large,  grey  eyes  with  an 
expression  of  eager  curiosity. 

Lucy  Everett  could  scarcely  conceal  the  sud 
den  shock  that  at  that  moment  agitated  her  frame 
— the  voice  was  that  of  Hertel  de  Rouville. 

"  Ah  to  be  sure  I  do,"  replied  Mrs.  Marsden, 
"  when  my  husband  was  the  very  one  that  met 
him  in  Boston  with  the  big  hat  slouched  over  his 
face.  And  now  I  think  of  it,"  she  continued,  "  if 
you  are  in  such  a  hurry  to  see  him,  you  had  bet 
ter  go  to  Boston.  You  will  undoubtedly  find 
him  there.  Would  not  you  advise  him  too,  Miss 
Lucy  ?" 

"Good  woman,"  continued  the  officer  in  the 
same  harsh  tone  and  foreign  accent,  "  you  say  he 
had  no  friends  no  acquaintance  among  you." 

"  It  was  his  own  fault  that  he  had  not,"  replied 
Mrs.  Marsden,  "  but  he  had  a  very  reserved  sort  of 
a  way  with  him,  and  never  spoke  a  word  to  any 
one,  not  even  to  answer  a  civil  question.  But  you 
had  better  not  go  to-day,  sir,"  she  added  as  the 
stranger  rose  and  approached  the  door.  "  It  is  a 
long  way  to  Boston." 

"Then  the  sooner  I  am  off,  the  better,"  replied 


CASTINE.  203 

the  officer,  and  after  laying  upon  the  table  a 
French  coin,  and  bidding  a  hasty  good  morning, 
he  quitted  the  dwelling.  Lucy  saw  that  he  di 
rected  his  steps  to  the  forest.  That  the  search 
in  this  vicinity  was  now  over  she  could  no  longer 
doubt,  and  ere  she  left  the  house  of  Mrs.  Marsden 
the  officer  and  his  companion,  mounted  on  horse 
back,  were  seen  swiftly  pursuing  their  way  to  the 
south. 

It  was  four  in  the  afternoon,  when  Lucy  Eve 
rett,  overcome  with  agitating  emotions,  prepared 
for  her  excursion  to  the  hiding  place  of  the  stran 
ger.  She  had  rested  herself  awhile  in  her  mo 
ther's  parlor,  and  related  to  her  the  particulars  of 
her  interview  with  De  Rouville  ;  and  she  had  not 
departed  without  giving  her  promise  that  she 
would  ascertain  if  possible  the  import  of  the  mys 
terious  conversation  in  the  forest.  Many  embar 
rassing  thoughts  passed  through  her  mind,  as  she 
slowly  parted  away  the  thick  brushwood  from  the 
winding  path  that  led  to  the  summit  of  the  hill. 
The  beautiful  stillness  of  the  lone  wood,  interrupt 
ed  only  by  the  voice  of  singing  birds,  and  the  cool 
murmur  of  a  distant  waterfall,  came  over  her  feel 
ings  with  a  soothing  influence  until  her  reflec 
tions  had  gradually  assumed  a  softer  character. 

Thnt  the  youth  whose  life  had  recently  been 
redeemed  from  destruction  by  her  own  exertions, 
could  ever  have  acted  in  that  plan  of  deliberate 
treachery  which  the  words  of  De  Rouville  had  re 
vealed,  was  an  idea  too  painful  to  be  indulged. 
Neither  were  her  emotions  unmingled  with  fear 
ful  apprehensions.  The  conversation  in  the 
woods  had  referred  to  a  systematic  plan  of  offen 
sive  operations,  in  contemplation  against  the  New- 
England  colonies,  at  a  time  when  perfect  peace 


204  .CASTINE. 

was  supposed  to  exist  between  them  and  their 
Canadian  neighbors.  Were  then  the  horrid  atro 
cities  to  which  the  "  Treaty  of  Rysvvick"  had  at 
length  put  a  period,  again  to  be  renewed  ;  and  if 
so,  was  not  her  silence  with  regard  to  it  culpa 
ble?  Surely  the  welfare  of  a  single  stranger  was 
not  dearer  to  her  than  that  of  her  father  and 
country.  Her  cheek  was  yet  warm  with  the  em 
barrassment  which  this  inquiry  excited,  when  she 
found  herself  suddenly  in  his  presence.  He  had 
\vandered  from  the  place  of  his  concealment,  and 
stood  leaning  in  the  shadow  of  an  old  hemlock, 
just  on  the  summit  of  the  hill. 

His  brow  was  uncovered,  and  the  hunting  cap 
he  had  worn  lay  at  his  feet,  his  eye  was  fixed  on 
the  ground,  and  such  a  shade  of  sadness  darken 
ed  his  youthful  features,  as  the  fear  of  death  alone 
could  never  have  imparted.  The  rustling  of 
the  tangled  evergreens  which  lay  in  the  path, 
at,  length  aroused  him  from  his  reverie  ;  and  with 
a  flush  of  unfeigned  delight  he  hastened  to  meet 
his  beautiful  deliverer. 

The  courtesies  of  the  puritan  life  were  few  and 
simple  ;  those  fine,  benevolent  feelings  which  are 
the  essence  of  all  true  politeness,  indeed  were  not 
wanting,  but  the  devotion  of  the  pilgrims  had 
stamped  upon  the  manners  of  the  growing  nation 
its  own  rigid  character  ;  and  though  in  every 
movement  of  the  minister's  daughter  there  shone 
a  simple  and  chastened  elegance  which  no  art 
can  purchase,  it  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
polished  bearing  of  her  mysterious  companion. 

"  I  have  seen  Hertel  de  Rouville,"  said  the 
maiden  interrupting  his  graceful  compliments. 
"  He  seeks  you  at  Boston,  and  if  the  Indian  does 


CASTINE.  205 

not  yet  remain  to  watch  your  steps,  you  may  now 
escape  in  safety." 

Again  the  eye  of  the  stranger  sunk,  with  that 
look  of  melancholy,  which  the  appearance  of  Lu 
cy  had  for  a  few  moments  interrupted.  "  I  have 
then  a  short  reprieve.  Heaven  bless  you,  gentle 
maiden,  for  your  kindness  to  a  stranger.  We 
shall  perhaps  meet  no  more.  And  yet,"  he  con 
tinued,  "I  cannot  leave  my  name  loaded  with 
crime,  to  one  whose  approbation  would  be  dearer 
to  me  thnn  that  of  the  world  beside."  Lucy  felt 
that  this  was  no  light  compliment;  for  the  words 
were  uttered  in  the  deep  tones  of  feeling,  and  the 
stranger's  brow  was  flushed  as  he  spoke.  "  Sweet 
Lucy  Everett,  do  not  remember  me  as  a  spy  and 
a  traitor;  think  of  me  as  one  whose  early  educa 
tion  has  taught  me  to  love  the  puritans,  but  whom 
the  ties  of  kindred  and  the  love  of  life  itself  are 
urging  to  join  against  them  in  schemes  of  treach 
ery  and  cruelty.  I  cannot  yet  throw  off  the  re 
straint.  The  time  has  not  come,  for  were  I 
convicted  of  the  ofience  of  which  Vaudruil 
suspects  me,  it  would  only  hasten  on  the  scene 
of  bloodshed." 

"  But  why  does  he  seek  to  murder  you  in  se 
cret?"  said  the  young  lady  with  surprise. 

"  He  has  no  proof  of  my  guilt;  and  he  dare 
not  do  it  openly.  He  would  as  soon  draw  upon 
himself  the  vengeance  of  the  king  himself  as  my 
father's  wrath.  "  Here,"  he  continued  without 
regarding  the  astonishment  expressed  in  the  coun 
tenance  of  his  auditor,  "here  is  the  bitterness 
of  my  lot.  It  is  hard  to  throw  aside  the  ties  of 
parental  duty." 

"  But  I  must  not  linger  here,"  he  added,  after 
a  little  pause,  "  it  is  necessary  that  I  should  hasten 
18 


206  CASTINE. 

immediately  to  the  presence  of  Vandreuil,  and 
by  refuting  his  suspicions,  defer  his  plans  a  little 
longer,  until  some  slight  preparation  for  resist 
ance  can  be  made  ;  for  the  moment  that  Dudley 
is  supposed  to  be  in  possession  of  our  secret,  the 
French  forces  would  rush  instantly  upon  the  de 
fenceless  frontier." 

"  But  your  words  are  parables  to  me,"  said  Lu 
cy,  "you  speak  of  bloodshed  and  plans  of  at 
tack;  are  we  not  at  peace  with  our  enemies  ?" 

"Pardon  me,"  replied  the  youth,  "I  should  have 
told  you  that  war  is  in  anticipation,  and  probably 
already  declared  in  England,  against  France  and 
Spain.  The  Canadian  governor  has  long  been  in 
preparation  for  this  event;  and  his  forces  are  pre 
pared  for  an  immediate  attack.  The  moment 
that  the  declaration  of  war  arrives,  the  whole 
country  from  Casco  to  Wells,  will  be  devastated. 
All  that  I  have  told  you  of  the  war,  communicate 
without  delay  to  your  father,  all  that  I  have  told 
you  of  myself,  I  pray  you  conceal." 

The  cheek  of  the  young  maiden  had  gradually 
grown  pale  during  this  recital ;  and  at  its  conclu 
sion,  she  had  no  power  to  speak.  The  line  of 
attack  comprehended  her  own  beloved  village. 
Horrid  pictures  of  blood  and  conflagration  floated 
through  her  mind  ;  and  the  awful  certainty  of  the 
impending  evil,  left  no  avenue  for  hope. 

"  Heaven  be  praised, "she  at  length  exclaimed, 
as  if  her  mind  had  at  length  fastened  on  some 
slight  alleviation.  "The  Indians  are  now  our 
friends,  we  have  none  but  gallant  soldiers  for 
our  foes.  Heaven  be  praised  we  have  not  again 
to  fear  the  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife." 

Something  like  a  groan  of  agony  burst  from 
the  youth.  "  Fear  every  thing  here,  dear  Miss 


CAST1NE  207 

Everett.  These  beautiful  villages  are  meted  out 
for  utter  destruction.  The  savages  will  not  re 
gard  their  treaty.  Every  effort  has  been  made 
to  induce  them  to  slight  it;  and  the  machina 
tions  of  those  cruel  and  fiendish  priests  have  at 
last  prevailed." 

"  Talk  not  of  the  priests,"  said  Lucy,  her  eye 
kindling  with  sudden  indignation.  "Cruel  and 
fiendish  as  they  may  be,  they  are  but  tools  to  that 
one  master  spirit  of  iniquity  who  excites  and  gov 
erns  them  all.  The  Baron  Castine  hath  surely 
learned  wickedness  from  no  mortal  teacher,  and  if 
the  spirit  of  darkness  doth  indeed  come  to  our  world 
in  human  form" — she  paused — "It  is  plain,  I  see 
it,  sir,  Castine  hath  again  lighted  up  their  wrath, 
and  there  is  no  more  peace  for  us."  Her  voice 
was  choked  with  agony  and  the  cold  perspiration 
stood  on  her  brow.  "  It  is  time  that  we  part, 
sir,"  she  added,  after  a  few  moment's  silence, 
"you  must  fly  from  danger,  and  I  must  go  home 
and  prepare  to  meet  it." 

The  stranger  had  become  meanwhile  deeply  agi 
tated."  Now  that  you  are  warned  of  the  coming 
evil,  surely  you  will  not  remain  to  meet  it.  Dear 
Miss  Everett  I  pray  you  hasten  from  the  scene  of 
danger." 

"  My  father  is  a  pastor,  replied  Lucy  looking 
sorrowfully  up,  "  he  will  not  forsake  his  flock  and 
I  cannot  forsake  him.  Farewell."  She  turned 
hastily  and  drawing  the  veil  over  her  tearful 
countenance,  returned  by  the  path  which  led  di 
rectly  to  the  garden  behind  her  father's  dwelling. 

Jane  Grant  waited  at  the  gate  to  welcome  her 
approach,  and  they  entered  the  parlor  together. 
The  clergyman  and  his  wife  were  at  their  eve 
ning  repast,  and  a  single  glance  was  sufficient 


208  CASTINE. 

to  convince  the  daughter,  that  some  train  of 
painful  reflections  already  occupied  her  father's 
mind. 

"Jane, "said  Mrs.  Everett,  "hath  your  father 
returned  from  the  south  ?" 

The  reply  was  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Brought  he  then  the  tidings  from  England?" 

"  I  heard  none,  sir.  He  was  talking  princi 
pally  of  two  singular  looking  strangers  who  over 
took  him  a  little  before  he  reached  the  village,  and 
who  seemed  to  be  coming  on  a  matter  of  life  and 
death." 

"  Which  way  were  they  travelling  ?"  inquired 
Lucy. 

"  They  tarried  a  moment  at  the  inn,  and  then 
went  off  again  at  full  speed  on  the  northern  road. 
They  seemed  to  be  foreigners  and  persons  of 
distinction." 

"  And  what  news  from  England  dear  father  ?" 
continued  Lucy  with  breathless  interest,  while 
the  warnings  of  the  stranger  flashed  painfully 
over  her  mind. 

"  You  may  as  well  know  it  now,"  exclaimed 
the  clergyman  with  a  hasty  effort.  "  Great  Brit 
ain  has  declared  war  against  France  and  Spain  ; 
and  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  French 
colonies  will  commence  hostilities  immediate 
ly.  We  must  prepare  for  war  again  in  all  its 
horrors."  The  persons  who  listened  to  this  com 
munication,  seemed  variously  affected  by  it.  Jane 
Grant  manifested  only  unmingled  surprise  and 
apprehension ;  but  when  Mrs.  Everett  had  utter 
ed  her  first  exclamation  of  distress,  she  cast  on 
Lucy  a  glance  which  seemed  to  say,  "  the  mys 
terious  conversation  is  explained,  The  man 


CASTINE.  209 

whose  life  you  have  saved  was  the  spy  of  our 
enemy." 

Mr.  Everett  continued.  "It  cannot  be  ex 
pected  that  the  fury  of  the  war  will  fall  upon 
this  portion  of  the  country ;  for  the  eastern  In 
dians  who  have  recently  become  our  friends  will 
furnish  us  with  the  best  safeguard.  Yet  ought 
we  not  the  less  to  mourn  for  our  brethren,  whom 
God  hath  so  grievously  afflicted.  The  ways  of 
heaven  are  dark,"  he  added,  rising  and  pacing 
the  floor.  "  Our  wretched  country  hath  not  yet 
recovered  from  the  wounds  and  bruises  of  the 
late  war,"  and  he  groaned  bitterly.  "  But  our 
Heavenly  Father  knoweth  what  we  need,  and  he 
will  not  surely  blot  out  his  people's  name  from 
among  the  nations.5' 

"  Father,"  said  Lucy  "  arc  you  sure  that  the  sav 
ages  will  remain  true  to  us?  The  French  are  a 
subtle  people, and — remember  the  Baron  Cast  ;;e." 

Mr.  Everett  looked  upon  his  daughter  with 
some  surprise.  "You  speak  reasonably,  my 
child,  strange  that  I  myself  had  not  rc^i  ..  -red 
these  things,  but  my  mind  was  overcome  with  the 
greatness  of  our  calamity.  True,  true,"  ne  con 
tinued,  "  were  our  Indian  friends  to  become  trait 
ors,  we  must  expect  incursions  (rcm  the  foe,  and 
that  immediately." 

"  My  father"  said  Lucy  "  I  haye  received  sure 
intelligence,  that  the  treacherous  Castino  and  his 
priests  have  indeed  won  over  t  ie  Indians,  not 
withstanding  their  treaty,  and  they  are  at  this 
moment  prepared  to  assist  in  laying  waste  our 
villages.  We  lie  upon  the  very  frontier.  Within 
a  short  distance  is  an  armed  force  who  wait  onljr 
for  the  news  you  have  just  communicated  a?  the  sig 
nal  of  destruction.  Without  doubt  they  will  be 


210  CASTING. 

apprized  of  it  as  soon  as  ourselves,  nay  I  have  reas 
on  to  believe  that  the  strangers  who  were  has 
tening  with  such  rapidity  to  the  north,  are  the 
bearers  of  this  intelligence."  Every  eye  was 
fixed  upon  Lucy  in  amazement. 

"And  how  know  you  this,  Lucy?"  said  Mr. 
Everett,  endeavoring  by  the  sternness  of  his  look 
to  conceal  his  emotion. 

"  How,  I  cannot  tell  you,  pardon  me  father, 
my  intelligence  is  true,  there  is  no  time  for 
words.  Dear  father  is  it  indeed  too  late  for  re 
sistance  ?"  Mr.  Everett  gazed  a  moment  on  his 
daughter  in  silence,  and  a  sudden  light  seemed  to 
flash  upon  his  mind. 

"The  young  Canadian — Ah!  I  see  it  now. 
Jane  Grant,"  he  continued  turning  to  the  young 
lady  who  pale  and  trembling  was  leaning  in  the 
window  seat.  "  Go  home  as  quickly  as  possible 
and  tell  your  father,  I  desire  he  would  hasten 
forthwith  to  Boston  and  inform  the  court  of  the 
ruin  that  is  prepared  for  us.  An  armed  force 
must  be  raised  without  delay.  Ah  !  I  compre 
hend  it  all  now,  this  comes  not  suddenly  upon 
Vaudreuil.  Hasten  my  child,"  he  continued  ad 
dressing  Jane,  "  give  the  message  to  your  father, 
and  pray  him  not  to  sleep  until  he  sees  that  help 
is  prepared  for  us,  and  Lucy,  my  daughter,"  he 
continued  as  Jane  departed  swiftly  on  her  errand, 
"  you  must  run  with  all  speed  to  the  village  and 
give  the  alarm.  Let  the  bell  be  rung  to  assem 
ble  the  people,  and  when  they  ask  wherefore,  tell 
them  that  the  Indians  are  coming  we  know  not 
how  soon,  perhaps  this  night,  to  murder  us  on 
our  hearth  stones.  I  have  letters  to  write  to  the 
frontier  towns  and  will  be  with  them  presently." 

Lucy  waited  not  for  a  second  bidding,  and 


CABT1NE.  211 

the  alarm  was  quickly  spread.  In  a  few  min 
utes  from  the  time  of  her  departure,  the  sound  of 
the  bell  rose  from  the  village;  and  Mrs.  Everett 
who  was  gazing  from  the  window,  perceived  by 
the  dim  twilight  the  appearance  of  hastily  gather 
ing  crowds. 

When  the  clergyman  at  length  entered  the 
church  which  had  been  appointed  as  the  place  of 
assembling,  he  found  it  occupied  by  such  an  as 
sembly  as  such  an  alarm  always  gathers  together. 
Young  maidens  and  matrons,  and  wailing  infants, 
youth  and  grey  headed  magistrates,  were  mingled 
in  one  crowd ;  and  the  partial  illumination  of 
the  candles  which  some  in  their  haste  had 
brought  with  them,  served  to  increase  the  singu 
lar  effect,  revealing  here  and  there  the  pale 
countenances  of  the  assembly.  There  was  a 
confused  noise  of  questions  without  answer,  and 
the  bell  was  still  pealing  through  the  valley. 
That  there  was  some  dreadful  cause  of  alarm, 
every  one  comprehended  ;  but  beyond  this,  all 
was  horrid  uncertainty. 

In  the  midst  of  this  scene  of  confusion,  Mr. 
Everett  caught  a  view  of  his  daughter.  She  was 
reclining  pale  and  motionless  against  one  of  the 
pillars  that  supported  the  pulpit,  amid  a  group 
of  eager  listeners,  her  bonnet  was  off;  and  the 
comb  had  fallen  from  her  dark  and  waving  curls. 

At  the  sight  of  the  clergyman,  the  confusion 
which  prevailed  throughout  the  assembly  in  some 
degree  subsided  ;  at  the  same  moment  the  bell 
ceased,  and  having  ascended  the  pulpit  the  better 
to  command  attention,  he  began  calmly  and  con 
cisely  to  state  to  them  their  real  danger  and  the 
cause  of  their  assembling.  They  listened  with 
eager  and  deathlike  stillness.  The  clergyman 


212  CASTINE. 

assured  them  that  he  had  despatched  a  petition 
to  Boston  for  immediate  aid.  "  But  even  this," 
he  continued,  "  may  arrive  too  late.  We  are  not 
ignorant  of  savage  warfare.  We  know  they 
sound  no  trumpet  before  them.  Perhaps  this 
night  the  war  whoop  may  echo  through  our  dwel 
lings."  A  simultaneous  groan  burst  from  the 
crowd.  "  At  all  events,  let  them  not  find  us  un 
prepared.  We  can  all  fight,  and  fight  willingly 
that  cruel  and  treacherous  race,  the  enemy  of 
God  and  man.  Brethren  we  have  arms,  and  we 
will  not  be  scalped  unresistingly.  As  for  the 
women  and  children,"  he  continued  glancing 
around  on  their  pale  faces,  "  they  have  nothing  to 
do,  but  go  home  and  pray  the  Almighty  for  his 
strong  defence.  We  can  all  rest  "  beneath  the 
shadow  of  his  wing." 

One  by  one,  the  females  and  children  now  re 
tired.  Of  those  who  remained,  a  guard  was  form 
ed  for  the  defence  of  the  town.  The  better  to 
accomplish  their  scheme,  it  was  agreed  that  the 
houses  without  the  valley  should  be  abandoned, 
and  that  one  third  of  the  guard  should  be  con 
stantly  upon  duty.  These  resolutions  having 
been  entered  into,  they  departed  with  all  speed 
to  carry  them  into  effect. 

Lucy  had  left  the  church  just  at  the  time 
when  nothing  had  been  resolved  upon ;  and  an 
hour  of  more  agitating  suspense  she  had  never 
passed  than  that  which  intervened  between  her 
own  return  and  her  father's.  During  this  period 
she  related  to  her  mother  the  particulars  of  the 
stranger's  conversation ;  and  she  was  still  stand 
ing  at  the  window,  watching  with  eagerness  the 
hastily  moving  lights  in  the  village,  when  the 
sound  of  near  voices  met  her  ear.  A  group  of 


CASTINE.  213 

figures,  faintly  discerned  in  the  darkness,  were 
seen  approaching  the  cottage  ;  and  a  moment 
after,  Lucy  met  her  father  at  the  gate. 

"  We  must  abandon  our  home  my  child,"  he 
said,  "  it  is  too  far  from  the  center  to  lie  within 
the  line  of  defence."  Mrs.  Everett  approached 
the  door.  "  Hasten  Sarah,"  said  the  clergyman, 
"  and  seek  for  yourself  all  that  is  most  dear  to 
you.  There  are  some  without,  waiting  to  convey 
our  most  valuable  goods." 

There  was  no  time  for  remonstrance  or  reply, 
and  the  mother  and  daughter  silently  prepared  to 
obey  the  injunction.  All  was  now  confusion  in 
the  cottage.  Where  every  object  was  so  endear 
ed  by  ancient  ties  of  association,  it  was  hard  to 
resolve  which  should  be  abandoned  to  the  ven 
geance  of  the  savage.  The  domestic  who  had 
been  speedily  summoned  from  her  now  useless 
department  in  the  kitchen,  was  soon  engaged  in 
tearing  up  and  packing  the  various  articles  which 
accident  first  threw  in  her  way.  The  clergyman 
had  gone  to  his  study  to  select  from  thence  the 
most  valuable  papers ;  and  Mrs.  Everett  was 
laying  away  in  a  basket,  the  contents  of  an  old 
fashioned  cupboard,  consisting  of  a  few  precious 
relics  of  family  plate,  together  with  a  more  mo 
dern  and  less  costly  set  of  China.  The  little 
yard  before  the  door  was  soon  filled  with  promis 
cuous  heaps  of  boxes,  chairs,  and  tables.  At 
length  the  arrangements  were  hastily  completed, 
and  the  men  departed  with  their  burthen.  Lucy 
and  her  mother,  followed  by  Amy,  were  slowly 
descending  the  hill,  and  Mr.  Everett,  after  turn 
ing  the  key  upon  his  solitary  dwelling  hastened  to 
accompany  them. 

We  need  not  stop  to  describe  the  sensations  of 


- 

214  CASTINE. 

this  sorrowful  party,  as  they  moved  silently  along 
the  path  to  the  village ;  those  who  have  ever  felt 
the  sudden  dissolution  of  the  strong  attachments 
which  bind  to  a  beloved  home,  may  easily  ima 
gine  them.  They  had  nearly  half  completed 
their  walk,  and  Mr.  Everett  perceived  with  plea 
sure  that  the  houses  which  composed  the  village 
were  already  under  the  protection  of  an  armed 
and  efficient  guard,  when  Mrs.  Everett  suddenly 
paused  and  turned  to  her  husband. 

"  The  picture,  Mr.  Everett !  The  picture.  I  have 
surely  forgotten  it."  There  was  a  momentary  em 
barrassment. 

"  Mother,  I  will  return  for  you,"  exclaimed 
Lucy,  "  and  Amy  will  go  with  me  ;  where  shall 
we  find  the  picture?"  Mr.  Everett  hesitated. 

"  It  is  a  dangerous  time  to  walk  alone,  Lucy." 

"  But,  my  father,  you  are  fatigued,  and  you  look 
ill.  You  cannot  walk  to  the  cottage  again  to 
night.  Do  not  fear  for  us.  Amy  and  myself  are 
young  and  active,  and  we  will  join  you  by  the 
time  you  reach  the  guard," — and  after  obtain 
ing  her  mother's  directions,  without  further  de 
lay  they  turned  to  retrace  their  steps  to  the  cot 
tage. 

The  moon  was  rising,  and  there  was  something 
mournful  in  the  appearance  of  the  deserted  cot 
tage,  with  its  dark  back  grounds  of  evergreens. 
The  windows  which  had  been  wont,  at  this  hour, 
to  send  forth  a  pleasant  light,  now  looked  dark 
and  cheerless.  Lucy  lifted  the  latch  of  the  little 
gate.  There  was  no  sound  of  glad,  kind  voices 
within;  the  stillness  of  the  grave  hung  over  the 
dwelling.  The  heroism  of  poor  Amy  was  so  en 
tirely  overcome  by  the  air  of  gloom  which  perva 
ded  the  whole  scene,  that  when  Lucy  had  at 


GASTINI.  215 

length  succeeded  in  opening  the  door,  she  re 
fused  to  enter  ;  and  sat  down  trembling  upon  the 
bench  of  the  little  honey-suckled  porch.  With  a 
painful  effort,  Lucy  hastened  through  the  dark 
and  lonely  apartments.  The  faint  light  of  the 
moon  was  just  struggling  through  the  windows, 
and  tears  involuntarily  rushed  to  her  eyes,  as  it 
revealed  to  her  the  dismantled  appearance  of  the 
little  parlor.  Familiar  as  she  was  with  the  ob 
jects  of  this  apartment,  it  was  impossible  for  her 
to  discover  the  key  of  the  locker,  without  first  ob 
taining  a  light.  Her  hand  had  already  fastened 
upon  a  little  lamp,  that  stood  on  the  mantel-piece, 
and  she  now  made  her  way  into  the  kitchen.  A 
few  embers  still  remained  on  the  hearth,  and  by 
means  of  these,  she  soon  succeeded  in  relighting 
the  lamp,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  found  her 
self  in  possession  of  the  object  of  her  search. 

A  sudden  and  violent  scream  from  Amy,  at 
that  moment  arrested  her  attention.  In  an  in 
stant  she  was  at  the  door,  just  in  time  to  witness 
the  broad  illumination  which  fora  moment  lit  up 
the  valley,  ere  a  sound  like  the  peal  of  distant 
thunder  at  once  revealed  its  cause.  A  more 
fearful  and  wretched  situation  than  that  in  which 
they  now  found  themselves,  can  scarcely  be  con 
ceived.  The  foe  had  indeed  come,  for  blaze  after 
blaze,  and  fresh  vollies  of  musquetry,  now  rapidly 
succeeded  each  other,  nay,  in  the  distant  and 
momentary  glare,  she  saw,  or  fancied  she  saw,  the 
well  known  uniform  of  the  French  soldiery,  in 
terspersed  with  the  tall  figures  of  the  Indian  war 
riors. 

Her  exertions  had  not  then  been  in  vain.  A 
guard  had  indeed  been  raised,  one  strong  in 
heavenly  faith,  and  in  the  might  of  human  affec- 


CASTINE. 

tions.  Many  a  firm  heart  must  be  laid  low,  ere 
harm  could  come  to  those  within  the  enclosure; 
but  here  was  she,  far  from  them  all,  in  this  dread 
ful  moment,  alone  and  unprotected.  Horrid  and 
sickening  emotions  filled  her  mind.  Death  was 
already  in  the  valley,  for  even  at  this  distance, 
the  voice  of  strong  agony  was  distinctly  heard ; 
arid  such  cries  and  groans  as  those  that  now 
mingled  faintly  in  the  din  of  battle,  she  felt  that 
death  alone  could  inspire.  The  exclamations  of 
Amy  wild  with  terror,  served  only  to  increase  her 
distress. 

She  still  stood  in  the  porch,  gazing  in  passive 
silence  upon  the  valley.  Horror  had  frozen  every 
faculty,  and  she  now  waited  in  calm  expectation 
for  the  moment  when  the  conflagration  of  the  vil 
lage  should  complete  the  horrors  of  the  scene. 
But  a  new  idea  of  her  situation  suddenly  filled 
her  mind,  and  bringing  with  it  the  hope  of  safety 
aj  once  aroused  her  from  this  torpor.  The  house 
was  at  some  distance  from  any  other,  and  quite 
out  of  the  path  of  the  enemy;  the  moon  was  ob 
scured  with  clouds,  and  the  possibility,  nay,  the 
probability,  that  it  might  escape  their  notice, 
was  sufficient  to  banish  despair. 

She  now  regretted  extremely  that  she  had  al 
lowed  the  lamp  to  remain  burning  in  the  parlor, 
as  she  had  thus  considerably  increased  the  chan 
ces  of  discovery  ;  and  followed  by  Amy,  to  whom 
a  portion  of  her  hopes  were  already  communica 
ted,  she  hastened  to  extinguish  it.  The  door  was 
quickly  locked  and  barred ;  and  with  a  sudden 
animation,  they  began  to  devise  all  possible 
means  for  their  security.  Even  in  case  of  an  at 
tack,  Lucy  trusted  that  the  lonely  and  deserted 
air  ofthe  house,  together  with  the  appearance  of 


CASTINE.  217 

the  apartments  stripped  of  their  furniture,  by  in 
ducing  them  to  believe  it  uninhabited,  might  still 
secure  its  safety.  Amy  had  just  succeeded  in 
closing  the  shutters  of  the  kitchen,  and  was  en 
gaged  in  heaping  upon  the  embers  a  few  light 
splinters  when  the  sound  of  a  measured  tread 
broke  upon  the  stillness.  "  They  are  coming," 
she  shrieked,  in  an  agony  of  fear. 

"  Hush — hush" — whispered  Lucy,  "as  you  love 
life  be  quiet."  Meanwhile  the  heavy,  monoto 
nous  sound  which  had  excited  their  dread,  drew 
each  moment  nearer;  and  Lucy  motioning  Amy 
again  to  be  quiet,  ventured  carefully  to  enter  the 
opened  door  of  the  parlor.  She  dared  not  ap 
proach  the  window,  but  she  could  distinctly  per 
ceive  that  a  small  party  of  soldiers  had  that  mo 
ment  reached  the  summit  of  the  acclivity,  and 
were  now  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  house. 
There  was  a  short  and  dreadful  silence,  interrupt 
ed  only  by  the  voice  of  the  officer.  Though  his 
orders  were  given  in  French,  Lucy  understood 
them  sufficiently  to  comprehend  that  they  were 
to  remain  in  their  present  situation,  while  a  few 
of  them  moved  forward  for  a  careful  reconnoitre 
of  the  house  and  grounds.  They  were  soon  has 
tily  scrambling  over  the  pickets,  and  Lucy  retired 
again  to  the  kitchen. 

"  What  did  he  mean,"  said  a  low  voice  under 
the  window,"  to  send  us  puffing  up  the  hill  for  the 
sake  of  burning  this  old  deserted  house.  Not  a 
cat  stirring  !  Upon  my  word,  I  do  not  believe  it 
has  been  inhabited  since  the  flood." 

"But  you  know,"  replied  the  other,  "we  must 
make  a  division  of  that  saucy  guard.  We  may 
fire  upon  them  all  night,  at  this  rate,  without 
effecting  any  thing." 

19 


218  CASTINE. 

"  And  is  De  Rouville  so  witless  as  to  think  that 
they  will  come  running  forth  to  save  these  rotten 
shingles?  See,"  continued  the  same  voice,  "they 
have  left  us  nothing  for  booty,  but  that  old  fashion 
ed  locker.  I  will  burn  the  house  in  very  spite  to 
these  cunning  puritans." 

"  Ah  !  They  are  more  cunning  than  you  dream 
of,"  exclaimed  the  second  voice.  "  When  we 
left  the  village  a  bright  light  shone  through  these 
windows,  and  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  still  con 
tains  human  beings  notwithstanding  its  deserted 
look.  Some  too,  whose  lives  are  of  importance. 
I  believe  De  Rouville  learned  as  much  before  he 
sent  us." 

"  At  any  rate  we  can  soon  settle  the  matter," 
said  the  first  voice,  in  a  tone  which  made  Lucy 
shudder,  though  she  could  not  understand  the 
meaning  of  his  threat. 

There  was  another  silence  of  considerable  du 
ration,  and  then  light  streamed  up  from  under  the 
windows  with  so  sudden  a  blaze,  that  an  involun 
tary  scream  of  horror  burst  from  her  lips.  "  They 
have  fired  the  house,  Amy,"  she  exclaimed  in  the 
anguish  of  despair,  and  was  hastening  to  unfasten 
the  door.  But  Amy  caught  her  arm. 

"Do  not  go  out,  dear  Miss  Lucy,  the  Indians 
are  waiting  there  for  us,  and  it  is  better  to  die 
here  than  fall  into  their  hands."  At  that  mo 
ment  a  column  of  smoke  and  flame  burst  from  the 
door  of  the  parlor ;  and  almost  suffocated  and 
dead  with  horror,  Amy  herself  threw  open  the 
door  which  led  to  the  garden.  To  escape  to  the 
forest  on  the  hill,  was  now  the  only  alternative. 
They  had  already  crossed  the  garden  and  Lucy 
leaned  a  moment  over  the  gate  to  undo  the  fas 
tening,  when  the  loud  and  fearful  war-whoop 


CASTINE. 


219 


arrested  her  purpose.  The  clouds  rolled  away 
from  the  moon,  and  she  saw  that  they  were  sur 
rounded  with  a  fierce  circle  of  waving  tomahawks. 
All  that  they  could  do  for  life  was  done,  and  Lucy 
leaned  against  the  pickets,  to  watch  the  coming 
up  of  her  foe.  At  that  moment  a  fainting,  like 
death,  came  over -her,  the  forms  of  the  savage 
warriors  faded  from  her  eye,  and  insensibility  suc 
ceeded  to  the  long  excitement  of  agonized  feel 
ing. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


WHEN  consciousness  again  dawned  upon  the 
soul  of  Lucy  Everett,  the  objects  around  her  were 
entirely  changed.  It  was  still  night,  the  moon 
was  in  its  meridian,  and  she  was  reclining  on  the 
ground,  in  the  midst  of  an  evergreen  forest.  At 
first  she  supposed  that  this  was  none  other  than 
that  which  adorned  the  hill  behind  her  father's 
dwelling;  and  fancied  that  by  some  unknown 
means  she  had  escaped  from  the  power  of  her 
enemy,  in  time  to  obtain  its  concealment.  But 
a  second  glance  convinced  her  that  she  was  now 
far  away  from  her  beloved  home,  and  a  captive  of 
the  enemy. 

The  forest  extended  in  every  direction  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  penetrate ;  every  where  one  un- 
mingled  and  solemn  mass  of  waving  foliage  met 
her  eye,  save  when  she  turned  it  to  the  pale  blue 
skies  above.  Near  her,  and  stretched  upon  the 
ground  in  a  deep  and  listless  slumber,  she  now 
perceived  the  companion  of  her  misfortunes. 
The  countenance  of  Amy  was  excessively  pale, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  her  low  and  heavy  breath 
ing  she  would  have  deemed  it  the  sleep  of  death. 
But  that  which  excited  her  deepest  horror  was  the 
appearance  of  several  Indian  warriors,  reposing 
at  short  distances  around  them.  They  had  cho- 


CASTINE.  221 

sen  their  resting  places  among  the  thick  under 
wood,  so  that  she  had  not  at  first  been  aware  of 
their  presence.  The  long  knife  and  tomahawk 
still  lay  beside  them,  and  in  many  instances  were 
yet  strongly  clenched.  All  seemed  buried  in 
deep  slumber,  and  her  first  thought  was  to  arouse 
her  sleeping  companion,  that  they  might  together 
effect  their  escape.  She  was  slowly  rising  for 
this  purpose  when  from  beneath  the  branch  of  a 
large  tree  before  her,  the  eye  of  an  Indian  tnet 
her  own  with  a  fierce  and  steady  glance.  The 
savages  had  not  left  their  captives  unguarded, — 
all  resistance  was  in  vain,  so  pillowing  her  head 
upon  the  grassy  hillock  she  at  length  sunk  into 
the  slumber,  which  fear  had  induced  her  to 
feign. 

Ere  Lucy  again  woke  to  the  remembrance  of 
her  captivity,  a  strong  sunlight  was  piercing  the 
sombre  shades  of  the  forest,  and  the  loud  guttu 
ral  tones  of  her  Indian  guides  were  mingling 
harshly  on  her  ear.  She  arose  and  gazed  earnest 
ly  around  her.  Amy  was  no  where  in  sight ;  and 
the  dreadful  suspicion  of  her  probable  fate,  press 
ed  heavily  on  the  heart  of  her  young  mistress. 
The  noise  of  rustling  foliage  now  drew  the  In 
dians  about  her,  while  they  still  continued  their 
singular  and  animated  debate.  Meanwhile  that 
strength  and  decision  of  thought,  which  had  long 
been  nursed  in  secret  within  the  bosom  of  Lucy 
Everett,  was  seeking  to  reveal  itself  in  appropri 
ate  action.  The  character  of  the  Indians  as  a 
people  had  long  been  known  to  her ;  and  though 
that  instinctive  horror  with  which  the  early  set 
tlers  of  New-England  naturally  regarded  this 
savage  race,  prevented  her  in  some  measure  from 
appreciating  those  nobler  traits  of  character, 
19* 


222  CASTINE. 

which  we  who  live  in  later  days  have  leisure  to 
admire,  she  still  knew  that  they  were  human  be 
ings,  and  that  there  are  in  every  human  heart, 
some  tender  chords  to  vibrate  at  the  touch  of  a 
skilful  hand  ;  that  however  true  to  them  as  a  race 
those  stern  features  of  cruelty,  there  were  still  in 
dividual  exceptions.  She  therefore  determined 
to  analyze  the  various  expressions  of  character  in 
her  savage  companions,  and  to  endeavor  if  possi 
ble  to  excite  in  her  own  behalf,  the  glow  of  be 
nevolent  feeling ;  for  without  doubt  a  long  and 
painful  journey  was  before  her,  unless  indeed 
some  sudden  kindling  of  wrath  should  sacrifice 
her  at  once  to  their  fury. 

While  these  thoughts  were  revolving  in  her 
mind,  the  Indians  continued  their  debate  around 
her,  with  many  wild  and  fierce  gestures.  They 
gazed  frequently  upon  their  beautiful  captive; 
and  Lucy  fancied  that,  every  time,  their  glances 
returned  upon  her  with  a  calmer  and  less  fero 
cious  aspect.  There  was  indeed  much  in  her 
appearance  to  soften  the  resentment  of  her  sav 
age  guards;  for  while  her  youth  and  the  tender 
ness  of  her  sex  claimed  their  pity,  the  beauty  of 
her  person,  and  the  high  and  graceful  demeanor, 
seemed  well  fitted  to  call  forth  the  more  power 
ful  principle  of  admiration.  Beauty  has  its  influ 
ence  even  with  the  savage,  and  Lucy  Everett's 
was  precisely  of  that  style  of  which  an  Indian 
would  be  most  likely  to  acknowledge  the  power. 
There  was  no  obsequious  and  fawning  servility, 
no  meek  intreaty  for  life — the  maiden  knew  too 
well  the  character  of  her  foe ;  a  haughty  smile 
was  on  her  lip,  her  step  was  free  and  proud,  as 
she  moved  through  the  windings  of  the  forest, 
and  the  glance  of  the  Indian  frequently  sunk 


CAST  INK.  223 

beneath  the  brilliant  flashes  of  spirit  that  gleamed 
from  the  dark  eye  of  the  captive  maiden.  There 
was  also  manifested  on  all  occasions  a  kind  of 
fearless  confidence  in  their  generosity,  exactly 
suited  to  win  the  hearts  of  her  proud  companions. 
Whenever  danger  approached,  she  drew  nearer 
to  them,  as  if  claiming  their  protection,  and  the 
sweet  and  gentle  smile  witii  which  their  acts  of 
kindness  were  rewarded,  was  rendered  more  ac 
ceptable  by  the  usual  reserve  of  her  manner. 

These  exertions  were  not  in  vain.  A  spirit  of 
kindness  was  gradually  diffusing  itself  through 
the  hearts  of  some  of  her  companions,  and  now 
only  waited  for  a  meet  occasion,  or  some  slight 
increase  of  excitement,  to  reveal  itself  in  her 
favor. 

The  savage  travelers  seemed  to  know  no  wea 
riness;  from  the  first  break  of  morning,  till  the 
last  glimmerings  of  day,  with  untiring  steps,  they 
pursued  their  route  through  the  wilderness,  paus 
ing  only  to  partake  of  their  light  refreshments. 
It  was  the  evening  of  the  third  day  since  their 

departure  from  H ,  and  the  moon  was  shining 

bright  through  the  openings  of  the  forest,  ere 
they  had  selected  their  halting  place.  This  was 
at  length  chosen  on  the  banks  of  a  tributary 
stream ;  whose  murmurs  as  it  dashed  over  the 
stones  in  its  channel,  were  all  that  interrupted  the 
quiet  of  nature.  To  the  lovers  of  the  picturesque, 
if  any  had  been  there  to  look  on,  the  group,  the 
hour,  the  place,  would  have  presented  a  scene  of 
peculiar  interest.  The  beautiful  and  dejected 
young  captive,  the  forms  of  her  Indian  guards 
scattered  in  strange  contrast  on  the  turf  and  hil 
locks  around  her,  the  vivid  touches  of  moonlight 
on  the  ragged  wave  below,  the  flickering  and  fit- 


224  CASTTNE. 

ful  glare  of  the  immense  blaze  which  had  been 
kindled  as  well  for  safety,  as  for  the  preparation 
of  their  evening  repast,  together  with  the  gloomy 
mass  of  forest  which  no  ray  might  pierce,  extend 
ing  vast  and  dim  around  them,  were  the  most  ob 
vious  features  of  the  picture. 

With  the  exception  of  Lucy,  by  far  the  most 
interesting  and  prominent  figure  was  that  of  a  tall 
and  well  formed  youth,  reclining  against  a  frag 
ment  of  rock  in  the  center  of  the  group  below, 
and  at  that  moment  an  object  of  fixed  and  earnest 
attention  to  every  individual  which  composed  it. 
At  another  moment,  in  an  hour  of  security,  Lucy 
Everett  could  scarce  have  regarded  without  fear 
and  horror  the  ferocious  aspect  of  the  young  sav 
age,  his  long  hair  waving  in  the  night  breeze,  and 
every  feature  kindled  with  a  glow  of  unnatural 
excitement.  But  the  heart  of  the  captive  had 
become  strangely  inured  to  sights  like  these; 
and  amid  all  the  terror  and  anguish  of  her  long 
march,  when  looks  of  cunning,  and  cruelty,  and 
savage  hate,  glanced  upon  her  from  the  eyes  of 
her  fierce  conductors,  and  angry  voices  rung 
around  her,  there  had  ever  been  a  tone  of  kind 
ness  on  the  lip  of  the  young  Alaska,  and  a  look 
of  pity  and  compassion,  softening  the  sternness  of 
his  glance.  Alaska  was  the  favorite  of  the  whole 
party,  and  the  son  of  the  venerable  chief  who 
conducted  them.  Lucy  had  from  the  first  regard 
ed  him  with  a  feeling  of  secret  confidence;  and 
by  degrees  and  almost  insensibly,  had  begun  to 
hope  that  he  would  become  her  deliverer  from 
captivity. 

But  the  low  tones  of  the  youth  had  gradually 
increased  in  fierceness  like  the  rush  of  the  com 
ing  storm,  and  now  rung  high  and  wild  through 


CASTINE.  225 

the  forest.  Every  eye  was  fixed  eagerly  on  him. 
Some  ancient  legend,  some  tale  of  high  and  dar 
ing  deeds  evidently  claimed  their  attention  ;  the 
dark  faces  around  her  every  moment  assuming 
some  new  expression  of  savage  triumph,  and  every 
lip  trembling  with  exclamations  of  wild  excite 
ment.  Then  came  a  burst  of  song — supported  at 
first  only  by  the  mellow  tones  of  Alaska,  but 
gradually  swelling  and  deepening  until  every 
voice  had  mingled  svith  his,  and  the  wild  inspiring 
melody  thrown  back  on  her  ear  in  the  loud  echoes 
of  the  forest,  became  overpowering.  Lucy  turned 
shuddering  away,  and  no  longer  wondered  at  their 
deeds  of  inhuman  daring.  But  these  at  last  died 
away ;  and  on  raising  her  eye  amid  the  silence 
that  succeeded,  she  perceived  with  surprise  and 
fear,  that  the  attention  of  the  whole  party  had 
become  suddenly  transferred  to  herself.  Her 
apprehensions,  however,  were  soon  relieved  by 
the  gestures  of  the  chief,  who,  after  repeated  at 
tempts,  at  length  succeeded  in  intimating  to  her 
the  desire  of  her  companions  that  she  should 
famish  them  with  a  specimen  of  the  songs  of  her 
country.  Requests  in  this  instance  were  but  com 
mands  ;  and  Lucy,  after  revolving  in  her  rnind  the 
various  simple  airs  with  which  she  was  familiar, 
selected  one,  which,  for  its  exquisite  tenderness 
and  depth  of  melody,  was  well  worthy  of  the  oc 
casion.  It  was  one  of  the  beautiful  and  holy 
hymns  of  the  pilgrims;  and  as  it  rose  amid  that 
savage  throng,  now  melting  on  the  air  in  soft  and 
solemn  cadences,  and  now  in  loud  sweet  tones 
ringing  through  the  arches  whose  echoes  were 
yet  dying  with  the  war  song  of  the  Indian, — the 
effect  was  thrilling.  Even  the  stern  spirits  of  the 
warriors  seemed  bowed  with  its  influence.  The 


226  CASTINE. 

strains  at  length  ceased,  and  a  confused  murmur, 
that  seemed  like  approbation,  succeeded  them. 
The  young  Alaska  hid  his  face ;  and  the  fierce 
eye  of  the  chief,  softened  with  an  expression  of 
kindly  feeling. 

"  Ecoutez,  ecoutez"  exclaimed  a  low  and  dis 
tinct  voice  near  her.  She  turned  in  amazement. 
Hitherto  her  only  communications  had  been 
made  by  means  of  gestures  ;  and  the  idea  that 
there  were  any  there,  who  comprehended  a  lan 
guage  with  which  she  was  familiar,  was  new 
and  pleasing.  The  voice  was  that  of  Alaska ; 
he  had  approached  her  unobserved,  and  per 
ceiving  himself  understood  now  proceeded  to 
address  her  in  French  with  ease  and  fluency. 

"Listen,  listen,  English  maiden.  Thou  art  like 
my  dead  sister,  and  my  father  loves  thee.  Elsin- 
gah  was  tall,  and  straight,  and  beautiful  as  the 
morning;  her  voice  was  the  voice  of  birds,  and 
her  step  like  the  fleet  gliding  of  the  deer.  But, 
maiden,  the  dead  leaf  hath  fallen  on  her  grave; 
and  the  voice  of  Elsingah  hath  long  been  silent 
in  her  father's  dwelling.  She  hath  built  her 
bower,  where  the  roses  and  violets  never  die,  far 
away  in  the  land  of  bright  shadows,  among  the 
spirits  of  the  brave  and  beautiful.  But,  maiden, 
she  hath  left  us  desolate.  The  old  chief  still 
mourns  for  her,  and  there  is  none  to  call  me  broth 
er.  And  thou  art  like  Elsingah.  Thy  voice,  thy 
smile,  are  like  hers ;  and  my  father  loves  thee. 
English  maiden  wilt  thou  be  his  daughter." 

The  young  lady  seemed  in  doubt,  how  to  an 
swer  this  singular  proposal,  but  Alaska  waited  for 
her  reply. 

"  And  who  will  soothe  my  own  father,"  she 
at  length  exclaimed,  vainly  endeavoring  to  re- 


CASTINE.  227 

press  a  tear  at  the  thought  of  her  now  desolate 
home,  "and  my  mother,  my  own  beloved  mother," 
she  added  in  broken  tones.  "Oh  Alaska,  if  you 
have  mourned  for  Elsingah,  even  in  the  beautiful 
and  happy  homes  of  blessed  spirits,  think  of  those 
who  mourn  for  me  a  captive,  a  wretched  captive 
in  the  power  of  enemies." 

The  youth  seemed  considerably  affected  with 
this  appeal ;  but  the  remainder  of  the  party,  who 
had  sometime  waited  in  silence,  now  interrupted 
the  conversation,  commanding  Alaska  to  interpret 
to  them  the  words  of  the  English  captive.  A 
cry  of  displeasure  was  heard  among  them  as  the 
youth  obeyed  ;  and  a  long  debate  succeeded,  to 
the  captive  fearfully  incomprehensible,  though 
conscious  that  she  was  herself  the  subject  of  it. 
The  old  chief  joined  in  it  with  expression  of 
strong  interest  repeating  frequently  the  name  of 
Elsinsah,  and  pointing  to  her  whom  he  would 
fain  have  adopted  in  her  stead.  The  remainder 
of  the  party,  however,  manifested  signs  of  strong 
disapprobation,  and  replied  to  the  proposals  of 
Alaska  and  their  chief  with  such  an  air  of  fierce 
ness  and  resolution,  that  the  prisoner  could  no 
longer  doubt  concerning  her  doom;  and  cold  and 
darkly  fell  the  fearful  truths  on  her  heart — the 
death  of  an  Indian  captive  was  before  her. 

Whatever  the  decision  might  be,  it  was  evident 
that  the  old  chief  felt  himself  compelled  to  ac 
quiesce  in  it;  and  after  casting  on  Lucy  a  linger 
ing  look  of  regret,  he  quickly  stretched  himself 
on  the  earth  for  his  evening  repose.  His  exam 
ple  was  soon  followed  by  all  except  those  ap 
pointed  guard  for  the  night ;  and  Lucy  herself,  to 
avoid  suspicion,  reclined  her  cheek  on  the  cold 
and  dreary  turf. 


228  CASTINE. 

It  was  an  hour  of  bitter  suffering;  and  the 
young  maiden  now  sought  earnestly  to  recal  to 
her  recollection  those  lessons  of  holy  truth,  which 
in  moments  of  gladness  had  fallen  so  lightly  on 
her  heart.  Earth  for  her  was  now  no  more,  its 
pleasant  toils,  its  gay  hopes  and  affections,  were 
all  over,  and  the  grave — the  lonely  and  unknown 
grave  was  henceforth  to  be  her  resting  place. 
The  last  effort  had  been  made  for  her,  and  made 
in  vain ;  and  the  elasticity  of  youthful  hope, 
which  had  hitherto  borne  her  with  incredible 
strength  and  cheerfulness  through  the  perils  of 
her  long  march,  now  seemed  broken  and  crushed 
forever.  And  after  all,  she  was  to  die  just  in  the 
spring-time  of  her  being,  far  away  from  all  who 
would  have  soothed  the  bitterness  of  death,  and 
among  cruel  strangers.  The  weary  night  passed 
away  in  tears  and  agony. 

On  the  first  appearance  of  day,  the  Indians  re 
newed  their  march.  Lucy  still  walked  by  the  side 
of  the  Chief,  but  though  her  eye  glanced  fre 
quently  over  the  band,  she  could  no  where  dis 
cover  the  youthful  favorite ;  and  indeed  the  In 
dians  themselves  seemed  uneasy  at  his  absence, 
frequently  pausing  and  searching  the  openings 
around  them,  as  if  expecting  his  appearance.  At 
length,  about  half  an  hour  after  sunrise,  Alaska 
suddenly  presented  himself,  springing  from  the 
thicket  on  one  side  of  their  path.  There  were 
slight  symptoms  of  agitation  on  his  brow;  and  his 
companions  at  first,  regarded  him  with  suspicious 
glances.  But  a  certain  air  of  ease  and  indiffer 
ence  which  the  youth  soon  assumed,  together 
with  some  slight  apology,  ere  long  apparently 
removed  their  displeasure. 

The  whole  party  now  endeavored  to  quicken 


CASTINE.  229 

their  pace, — they  seemed  apprehensive  of  evil  at 
the  slightest  noise,  manifesting  signs  of  alarm, 
and  drawing  more  closely  around  their  prisoner. 
But  the  depressed  spirits  and  wearied  frame  of  the 
young  captive,  could  no  longer  endure  the  un 
wonted  hardships  of  her  journey.  The  hope  of 
safety  which  had  hitherto  given  energy  to  her 
steps  was  gone,  and  with  the  recklessness  of  de 
spair  she  now  paused  suddenly  in  her  path,  and 
supporting  herself  against  the  tree  that  shaded  it, 
declared  h'rmly  that  she  could  nnd  would  go  no 
further.  She  had  expected  death  for  her  temeri 
ty,  but  the  Indians  manifested  only  surprise  and 
concern  ;  the  most  savage  of  them  entreating  her 
to  accompany  them  a  little  further,  and  assuring 
her  that  she  should  then  find  rest  and  plenty. 
Scarcely  able  to  comprehend  their  conduct,  with 
a  faint  glimmering  of  hope,  she  at  length  yield 
ed  ;  and  her  guides  now  in  some  measure  accom 
modated  their  pace  to  her  exhausted  strength. 

Meanwhile  the  prisoner  perceived,  with  deep 
regret,  that  he  who  had  ever  manifested  the 
strongest  interest  in  her  welfare,  seemed,  on  the 
present  occasion,  to  regard  her  with  indifference, 
and  even  aversion.  Alaska  was  as  usual  the 
amusement  of  the  party.  He  laughed  and  sung, 
and  recited  to  them  tales  of  ancient  valor;  but 
he  seemed  now  perse veringly  to  avoid  her  pres 
ence,  and  there  was  a  kind  ot  heartless  gaiety 
in  his  whole  manner  which  she  had  never  before 
discovered. 

But  in  the  midst  of  those  bursts  of  merriment, 
the  eye  of  the  young  Indian  suddenly  rested  on 
hers  with  a  glance  of  deep  and  secret  meaning. 
There  was  an  expression  of  mingled  pity,  appre 
hension  and  hope  ;  and  repressing  the  exclama- 

20 


230  CASTINE. 

tion  of  astonishment  that  arose  to  her  lip,  she 
became  at  once  convinced  that  this  apparent  un 
concern  in  her  fate,  was  only  assumed  for  some 
mysterious  purpose  of  kindness.  Unwilling  how 
ever  to  attract  the  suspicions  of  her  companions,  by 
too  close  a  scrutiny  of  his  conduct,  with  a  strong 
effort  she  confined  her  glances  to  the  path  be 
neath  and  the  dense  thicket  before  her. 

"  Move  slower,  maiden — as  you  love  life,  move 
slower,"  exclaimed  a  low  voice  near  her  as  with 
a  painful  effort  she  was  seeking  to  quicken  her 
movement.  She  looked  up  in  astonishment. 
The  young  warrior  was  standing  on  an  elevated 
stone  at  a  little  distance  before  her;  his  bow  was 
drawn,  and  he  seemed  deeply  intent  upon  some 
distant  aim.  She  almost  doubted  the  evidence 
of  her  senses ;  for  though  the  voice  was  that  of 
Alaska,  there  was  nothing  in  his  countenance 
which  intimated  the  slightest  consciousness  of 
her  presence,  and  at  that  moment  darting  sud 
denly  from  the  rock  with  a  yell  of  savage  delight, 
he  disappeared  in  the  thicket. 

After  ascertaining  that  this  mysterious  com 
munication  had  been  listened  to  by  none  but  her 
self,  she  began  at  once  to  comply  with  the  in 
junction,  being  now  again  fully  aware  that  in 
advancing  she  was  only  hastening  on  to  a  more 
cruel  and  aggravated  doom.  But  the  faces  of 
her  conductors,  exhibited  symptoms  of  high  im 
patience,  as  she  again  relaxed  her  efforts,  some 
times  almost  pausing  on  her  way.  They  again 
renewed  their  promises  of  speedy  rest ;  and  these 
being  now  ineffectual,  threatenings  were  resorted 
to.  But  the  energy  of  despair  was  in  her  heart, 
she  gazed  calmly  and  resolutely  on  the  glisten- 


CASTINE.  231 

ing   tomahawk,  and  her   step   only  became  yet 
more  languid. 

Meanwhile  Alaska  and  several  of  his  young 
companions  had  moved  on  with  a  rapid  step,  and 
now  the  sounds  of  a  wild  and  savage  song  came 
ringing  through  the  woods.  It  was  supported  by 
several  voices  ;  but  as  they  drew  near,  the'  prison 
er  could  plainly  distinguish  amid  the  pauses,  at 
the  conclusion  of  every  stanza,  the  single  tone  of 
Alaska  chnnting  on  in  low  and  almost  inaudible 
strains.  The  inherent  love  of  life  had  quickened 
every  sense  and  she  was  not  long  in  perceiving 
that  words  of  secret  intelligence  lingered  in  the 
seemingly  unmeaning  sound. 

"  Listen,  listen,  English  maiden,"  at  length 
caught  her  ear ;  and  with  downcast  eye  and 
quickened  breathing,  she  waited  for  his  myste 
rious  communication.  It  came  at  length  in  low 
and  fitful  strains.  "  Fear  not.  Wait  here.  They 
will  not  harm  you."  And  the  voice  of  the  musi 
cian  again  burst  forth  in  the  wild  accents  of  his 
native  tongue.  Irresolute,  and  almost  overcome 
with  emotion,  she  awaited  the  conclusion  of  the 
succeeding  stanza.  "  Another  hour,  but  one 
hour  more,  wait  here,  or  in  yonder  valley,  and  you 
shall  not  die.  The  white  conquerors  will  not 
murder  you." 

A  cry  of  joy  almost  escaped  the  lips  of  the 
young  captive  ;  but  with  a  quick  effort  she  con 
cealed  her  emoiion,  still  moving  on  silently  and 
languidly  as  before.  They  were  now  descending 
a  hill  into  a  little  sheltered  nook,  overhung  with 
birch  and  maple.  It  was  about  noon,  the  sun  had 
become  exceedingly  oppressive,  and  it  was  the 
time  which  the  Indians  had  usually  selected  for 
refreshment.  Lucy  ventured  therefore,  to  de- 


232  CASTINE. 

mand  of  them  an  hour's  repose,  assuring  them, 
by  signs,  that  the  strength  thus  acquired  would 
more  than  compensate  for  the  loss  of  time.  Af 
ter  a  short  debate,  the  Indians,  with  much  dissa 
tisfaction,  complied  with  the  request. 

With  an  air  of  as  much  composure  as  she  could 
assume,  Lucy  now  reclined  herself  in  the  shadow 
of  the  clustering  maples,  and  leaning  her  head 
on  her  hand,  feigned  that  repose,  the  need  of 
which,  she  had  urged  as  an  excuse  for  their  pres 
ent  delay. 

Meanwhile  a  profound  stillness  prevailed  among 
the  savages.  They  spoke  occasionally  in  low 
whispers;  and  whenever  Lucy  ventured  to  lift 
her  eye,  she  perceived  that  they  were  gazing 
anxiously  around  them,  as  if  in  constant  expec- 
tion  of  an  alarm.  The  time  rolled  slowly  on  ; — 
to  the  agitated  heart  of  the  captive, minutesseemed 
hours,  and  still  no  signs  of  the  promised  deliver 
ance.  The  prescribed  period  had  indeed  nearly 
elapsed,  and  Lucy  was  already  shuddering  at 
the  gathering  signs  of  impatience  on  the  coun 
tenances  of  her  conductors  when  her  eye  be 
came  suddenly  fixed  on  the  opposite  thicket.  A 
human  face,  fiercely  painted,  was  peeping  out 
from  among  the  foliage,  and  quietly  and  unob- 
servedly  surveying  the  scene  before  him.  Not 
the  slightest  noise  announced  his  presence,  and  he 
continued  for  several  moments  cautiously  direct 
ing  his  glances  upon  the  unconscious  objects  of 
his  scrutiny.  At  length,  perceiving  that  the 
prisoner  had  discovered  his  presence,  he  moved 
slowly  down  the  bank  followed  by  a  close  but 
single  file  of  Indian  warriors. 

The  surprised  guards  started  hastily  on  their 
feet;  but  it  was  too  late  for  flight,  and  the  high 


CASTINE.  233 

authority  of  the  chief  who  now  approached  them, 
was  such  as  to  preclude  the  idea  of  open  combat. 
The  fierce  words  which  immediately  ensued,  were 
to  Lucy  totally  unintelligible  ;  but  it  was  evident 
that  on  the  part  of  her  guides  an  expression  of 
servility  mingled  with  angry  looks,  while  the 
countenance  of  the  stranger  chief  exhibited  only 
haughty  reproach.  The  altercation  was  at  last 
concluded,  and  the  victor  approached  the  tree 
beneath  which  his  prisoner  reclined.  There  was 
nothing  in  the  appearance  of  the  stranger  at  all 
calculated  to  soothe  her  fears,  and  yet  after 
glancing  a  moment  upon  her  Indian  friend,  she 
was  convinced  that  this  was  the  anticipated  suc 
cor.  The  chief  hastened  to  inform  her  that  she 
was  to  accompany  him;  and,  with  a  fresh  impulse 
of  strength  and  hope,  she  prepared  to  obey  the 
intimation. 

When  the  little  summit  was  once  more  gained, 
Lucy  Everett  turned  for  a  farewell  glance  at  those 
whom,  a  few  minutes  before,  she  had  regarded  as 
her  murderers.  They  were  still  standing  in  the 
same  posture  in  which  she  had  left  them,  gazing 
after  her  with  looks  of  deadly  hate,  and  even  now 
scarcely  restraining  the  expressions  of  their  sav 
age  resentment.  Alaska  had  separated  himself 
from  the  group  ;  and,  as  long  as  Lucy  could  dis 
cern  the  sheltered  nook,  he  was  still  standing  with 
folded  arms,  and  gazing  after  her  with  looks  of 
mingled  joy  and  sadness.  The  captive  waved 
her  hand  in  token  of  gratitude,  and  the  nodding 
foliage  soon  hid  the  whole  company  from  her 
view. 

20* 


CHAPTER  V. 


NOTHING  interrupted  the  profound  silence  with 
which  the  whole  party  now  moved  forward,  save 
the  breaking  of  the  long  grass  beneath  their  feet, 
and  the  sound  of  rustling  boughs,  as  their  strong 
clusters  parted  before  them.  They  had  retraced 
for  some  time,  the  path  which  Lucy  had  so  re 
cently  trodden,  when  the  leader  of  the  band 
plunged  into  the  midst  of  a  dark  thicket  to  the 
left,  commanding  the  rest  to  follow  him.  The 
way  had  now  become  more  intricate  than  ever, 
and  notwithstanding  the  utmost  exertions  of  the 
impatient  travelers,  the  progress  made  was  but 
inconsiderable,  the  foremost  in  the  march  fre 
quently  pausing  to  hew  away  the  tangled  bushes 
which  obstructed  their  steps. 

These  interruptions,  however,  occasioned  no 
inconvenience  to  the  young  captive;  and  indeed 
the  intervals  of  rest  thus  afforded,  together  with 
the  slow  pace  thus  necessarily  adopted,  were  all 
which  prevented  her  light  frame  from  sinking 
under  her  fatigues. 

The  beams  of  a  descending  sun  threw  a  faint 
and  obstructed  radiance  on  their  way,  as  they  at 
length  silently  emerged  into  a  wide  and  well  trod 
den  path,  which  intersected  the  one  they  had 
previously  trodden.  They  all  gazed  eagerly 


CASTINE.  235 

forward,  and  amid   the  openings  of  the   foliage 
was  now   plainly  discoverable  the   appearance  of 
distant  water.    Then  followed  a  brief  interchange 
of  signals   and    expressive   glances    among   the 
guides,  and  again  they  moved  silently  on.     The 
darkness  was  now  every  moment  increasing  ;  and 
the   eye  of  the  captive,  weary  of  gazing  on  the 
endless  and   unvarying  succession   of  forest  and 
sky,  sunk  heavily  downward.     Her  grieved  spirit 
wandered  sorrowfully  away  to  the  distant  friends 
and  home,  that  she  doubted  not  were  lost  to  her 
forever,  until  the  strong  and  beautiful  pictures  of 
memory  seemed    living   realities;  and  the  thick 
ening  gloom  of  the  forest,  and  the  forms  of  her 
stern  and  silent  companions,  only  as  the  moving 
pageant  of  some  troubled  dream. 

A  sudden  halt  in  the  movement  of  the  advanced 
guard,  now  attracted  her  attention,  and  she  be 
held  herself  at  once  standing  on  the  margin  of  a 
wide  river.  With  the  exception  of  two,  her  guard 
had  suddenly  deserted  her,  leaving  her  to  exam 
ine  at  her  lei-sure,  the  picturesque  beauty  of  the 
opposite  shore,  now  softened  with  the  shades  of 
the  deepening  twilight. 

After  a  short  interval  the  Indians  reappeared, 
dragging  from  the  concealment  of  the  thicket 
several  small  and  rude  canoes.  These  were  spee 
dily  launched,  and  the  chief  again  approached 
the  prisoner.  Lucy  turned  for  a  moment,  shud 
dering  from  the  cold  dark  wave,  but  there  was  no 
alternative.  With  a  glance  of  fervent  but  un- 
murmured  supplication  to  heaven,  she  now  fol 
lowed  her  guide  to  the  margin  of  the  stream,  and 
was  soon  seated  beside  him  in  the  rude  canoe. 
The  sound  of  the  plashing  wave  echoed  mourn 
fully  in  the  stillnes, — the  shore  seemed  receeding 


230  CASTINE. 

behind  them,  and  in  a  few  moments  more,  they 
were  sailing  quietly  down  the  current  of  the 
stream. 

The  broad  river  was  now  gradually  widen 
ing  into  a  bold  and  majestic  bay;  and  Lucy 
soon  found  herself,  in  that  frail  bark,  and  with 
that  savage  companion,  alone  on  an  inlet  of 
the  wide  sea.  Meanwhile  one  by  one  the  stars 
of  heaven  shone  out  from  the  soft  twilight, 
while  the  outline  of  the  opposite  shore  seemed 
every  moment  to  grow  more  wild  and  strange, 
amid  the  gathering  shadows.  But  the  eyes  of 
all  were  now  directed  to  a  bold  and  woody 
promontory,  jutting  forth  from  the  eastern  shore 
at  no  great  distance  below  them. 

A  shape  like  that  of  a  fortress  now  appeared 
on  its  summit,  but  often  ere  this  had  the  fantas 
tic  skill  of  nature  mocked  the  weary  eye  with 
views  of  distant  towns  and  cities.  The  illusion, 
however,  if  such  it  was,  seemed  only  to  grow 
more  strong  and  distinct  upon  a  nearer  survey. 
Indeed  as  they  gradually  neared  the  shore  the 
dark  building  with  its  strong  outworks  and  bar 
riers  of  defence,  might  no  longer  be  mistaken, 
though  the  deep  obscurity  which  enveloped  the 
objects  of  the  shore,  prevented  minute  observa 
tions. 

Her  companion  now  muttering  a  few  unintelli 
gible  phrases,  made  rapidly  towards  the  object  otf 
her  curiosity,  the  other  canoes  following  closely 
in  their  rear.  A  loud  quick  challenge  was  now 
heard  from  the  shore,  while  brilliant  streams  of 
light  issuing  from  the  buildings  above,  seemed  to 
render  the  darkness  without  more  gloomy  by  its 
contrast.  The  watchword  had  been  given  by 
her  guides,  and  in  a  few  moments  more,  they 


CASTIXR.  237 

were  standing  on  the  low  landing  point  just  he- 
neat  ii  the  fortress. 

The  idea  of  her  wild  and  singular  situation, 
rushed  painfully  to  the  mind  of  the  captive,  as, 
following  the  steps  of  her  guide,  she  no\?  per 
ceived  that  they  were  approaching  the  haunts  of 
civilized  men.  There  was  a  confused  mingling 
of  human  tones,  the  song,  the  whistle,  and  the 
boisterous  laugh,  the  sounds  of  heavy  steps  echo 
ing  on  the  pavement  within,  the  stirring  tones  of 
the  fife  and  drum,  and  amid  their  brief  interludes 
the  notes  of  a  softer  and  more  distant  music. 
They  had  already  passed  the  entrenchments,  and 
half  fainting  with  terror  and  embarrassment,  Lucy 
soon  found  herself  standing  amid  a  sudden  glare 
of  light  at  the  entrance  of  the  building,  every 
sense  dazzled  and  bewildered  with  this  unexpect 
ed  transition  from  the  gloom  and  silence  of  the 
forest. 

The  apartment  into  which  the  whole  party 
were  now  slowly  entering  was  a  high  and  ex 
tremely  spacious  hall  illuminated  by  means  of 
lamps  suspended  from  the  ceiling.  Many  and 
various  were  the  forms  which  now  presented 
themselves,  issuing  from  the  numerous  rooms  with 
which  the  hall  communicated.  Servants  were 
hurrying  1o  and  fro,  soldiers  in  the  gay  French 
uniform,  gathered  in  little  groups  talking  and 
singing  in  their  foreign  tongue,  while  others 
whose  rich  dress  and  haughty  step  denoted  them 
officers  of  rank,  were  slowly  moving  through  the 
apartment.  Neither  was  the  prospect  bounded 
by  the  bewildering  succession  of  objects  which 
the  hall  itself  presented.  The  doors  on  either 
side  were  constantly  opening,  revealing  at  <-M  ry 
moment  a  glimpse  of  the  objects  within.  Light 


238  CASTINE. 

music  floated  from  the  one  directly  opposite  the 
spot  where  the  savages  and  their  captive  were 
stationed  ;  there  was  a  sound  of  quick  steps  mo 
ving  within  to  its  melody,  and  now  there  appear 
ed  the  form  of  an  elegant  female  gliding  for  a 
moment  before  the  opening  door.  It  would  not 
be  expected  that  in  a  situation  like  this  so  singu 
lar  a  groupe  could  long  remain  unnoticed.  Cu 
rious  glances  began  one  by  one  to  fasten  upon  it, 
until  Lucy  Everett  would  have  welcomed  joyful 
ly  even  the  gloom  and  shadow  of  the  wilderness. 

The  various  objects  around  her  had  however 
exerted  so  absorbing  an  influence  upon  her  at 
tention,  that  the  absence  of  the  Indian  chief  had 
not  been  noticed,  until  she  now  perceived  him 
approaching  from  a  distant  part  of  the  hall.  He 
had  no  sooner  rejoined  the  party,  than  command 
ing  the  remainder  of  his  followers  to  await  his  re 
turn  at  the  gate  of  the  palace,  he  selected  two  of 
their  number,  and  immediately  sallied  forth  again 
in  the  same  direction,  accompanied  by  them  and 
the  English  prisoner.  The  sight  of  one  so  young 
and  fair,  a  stranger  and  a  captive,  seemed  to 
create  a  strong  excitement  among  the  various 
inmates  of  the  apartment,  and  a  murmur  of  ad 
miration  and  pity  followed  the  group  as  they 
now  slowly  mounted  the  staircase. 

But  the  noise  and  confusion  below  seemed 
gradually  to  subside,  as  having  at  length  com 
pleted  the  ascent,  they  now  traversed  several  spa 
cious  apartments.  Weary  of  conjecture,  faint 
and  sick  with  fatigue,  at  length  she  paused  ;  and 
the  chief  murmuring  a  hasty  caution  to  the 
guards  immediately  disappeared. 

Voices  within  the  next  room  were  now  distinct 
ly  heard.  They  spoke  indeed  in  a  foreign  Ian- 


CASTINE  239 

guage,  but  it  was  one  with  which  she  was  in  some 
measure  familiar;  and  her  conceptions  of  its 
meaning  were  now  quickened  by  an  overpower 
ing  curiosity  which  the  singularity  of  her  situa 
tion  excited.  The  deep  full  toned  voice  which 
now  met  her  ear,  was  evidently  addressing  the 
savage  chief. 

"  Welcome,  welcome,  brave  Anarnanta,  we 
have  awaited  you  since  morning;  but  surely  a 
single  prisoner  is  not  all  your  booty." 

"No,  brother,  the  English  captives  are  still  in 
the  wilderness.  The  Sieur  Hertt-1  bade  me  lead 
them  to  Quebec  ;  but  the  maiden  I  have  brought 
you  is  young  and  tender,  and  I  turned  aside  with 
her,  that  she  might  not  die  unredeemed  in  the 
forest." 

"And  did  not  the  Sieur  pay  the  ransom  of  your 
prisoners?"  exclaimed  another  and  sharper  tone. 

"  For  all  but  her,"  rejoined  the  chief. 

"  The  Saco  warriors  were  treacherous,  and 
sought  to  carry  her  away  in  secret  to  grace  their 
triumph.  But  the  brave  Alaska  came  to  me  last 
night,  and  warned  me  of  their  treachery,  and  to 
day  I  overtook  them  in  the  forest." 

"It  is  well,  Anamanta,"  replied  the  first  voice. 

"  Leave  the  prisoner  here,  and  I  will  give  you 
the  gold  for  her  ransom."  A  long  drawn  sigh  in 
terrupted  the  silence  which  succeeded. 

"There  was  a  time,"  exclaimed  the  Indian  sor 
rowfully,  as  the  clinking  of  the  precious  metal  was 
heard  within — "  there  was  a  time,  when  the 
chiefs  of  my  nation  would  have  scorned  such  an 
offering.  They  went  forth  gloriously  to  the  fight, 
and  came  back  loaded  only  with  the  scalps  of 
their  enemies." 

"  And  that  time  shall  surely  come  again,"  re- 


240  CASTINE. 

joined  the  full  melodious  voice  which  had  first 
spoken.  "  Grieve  not,  noble  Anamant,  that  time 
shall  surely  come  again.  But  not  until  the  glo 
rious  race  of  the  Mohicans  stand  once"  more  on 
the  green  soil  of  their  fathers,  not  until  those  un 
holy  heretics  have  been  torn  up,  root  and  branch, 
from  the  land  which  they  have  polluted,  and  the 
forests  of  your  tribe  wave  high  and  free  again  on 
its  blood-nourished  valleys.  So  long  as  a  single 
vestige  of  this  unholy  people  stains  your  ancient 
inheritance,  ask  not  for  the  help  of  God,  nor 
of  the  blessed  virgin,  nor  of  the  pure  church 
they  have  defiled." 

A  new  and  fearful  thought  darted  across  the 
mind  of  the  captive  as  those  words  of  denuncia 
tion  met  her  ear.  Impious  and  inexpressibly 
dreadful  as  they  had  seemed,  there  was  indeed 
one  to  whose  character  as  it  had  long  been  re 
vealed  to  the  colonists,  they  seemed  but  too  appro 
priate.  The  voice  within  so  rich  in  its  tones,  so 
musical  in  its  cadence,  was  surely  none  other 
than  that  of  the  Baron  de  Castine. 

The  conversation  still  continued ;  but  Lucy 
Everett  heard  no  more.  Every  other  feeling  was 
at  once  forgotten  in  the  terror  of  this  discovery. 
She  looked  tremblingly  around  the  apartment. 
The  mystery  was  then  explained.  It  was  the 
palace  Castine,  that  strong  hold  of  superstition 
and  cruelty  whose  very  name  had  once  chilled 
her  heart ;  and  she  was  here,  a  lone  and  unpro 
tected  prisoner,  within  the  very  walls  where  all 
those  fearful  plans  of  ruin  for  her  people  had 
been  maturing,  the  very  scene  where  the  treach 
erous  peace  had  been  plotted,  the  ambuscade, 
the  war-cry,  the  cold  blooded  murder. 

But   these  reflections   were   now  interrupted. 


CAST1NE.  241 

The  chief  again  entered  the  apartment,  and  Lu 
cy  Everett  found  herself  summoned  to  the  pres 
ence  of  the  object  of  her  terror.     Perhaps  it  was 
the  consciousness  that  she  had  nothing  to  hope 
from  his  mercy,  that  now  banished  the  lingerings 
of  timidity,   imparting  to  the  face  and  graceful 
carriage  of  the  maiden,  that  expression  of  calm 
fearlessness,  with  which  she  slowly  entered  the 
apartment  of  the  Baron  Castine.     It  was  not  until 
she  had  reached  its  center,  that  summoning  all  her 
resolution  for  the  effort  she  slowly  raised  her  eye. 
The  first  object  which  arrested  it  was  a  lofty 
and  dignified  form  reclining  against  the  table  be 
fore  her.     His  dress  was  plain  and  simply  ele 
gant,  his  features  were  decidedly  handsome,  nay 
there  was  an  expression  irresistibly  attractive,  in 
the  large,  mild,  bright  eye  that  seemed  calmly 
reading  her  features.     But  the  unsatisfied  glance 
of  Lucy  still  wandered  on  in  search  of  that  one 
dreaded  object  which  filled  her  thoughts;  and 
she  immediately  discovered  at  the  remote  end  of 
the  table,  a  person  who  seemed  to  answer  to  the 
fearful  picture,  and  indeed  his  whole  appearance 
formed  a  striking  contrast  to  that  of  his  compan 
ion;  but  her  glance  sunk  quietly  down,  beneath 
the  searching  cunning  of  his  sunken  eye. 

"  And  a  fair  companion  for  such  an  one  as 
thee,"  said  the  same  musical  voice  which  a  few 
minutes  since  had  uttered  those  fearful  threaten- 
ings.  Lucy  started  with  surprise,  for  that  voice 
fell  from  the  lips  of  the  mild  and  pleasant  look 
ing  stranger,  who  had  first  attracted  her  eye. 

"  Father  Ralle,"  he  added,  turning  with  a  smile 
to  his  companion,  "  thou  shalt  shrive  the  gen 
tle  maiden,  and   having  absolved  her  from  the 
guilt  of  her  past  heresy,  we  will  seek  to  initiate 
21 


242  CASTINE, 

her  in  the  doctrines  of  the  true  church.  She  is 
too  beautiful  to  waste  her  loveliness  among  the 
puritans. 

"  Holy  Virgin,"  exclaimed  the  other  in  a  tone 
of  affected  horror,  "how  is  it  possible,  that  one 
who  hath  wandered  even  from  her  infancy  in  the 
wild  regions  of  heresy  and  sin,  should  thus  be 
brought  into  the  fold  of  the  blessed  shepherd. 
Noble  Baron,  I  doubt  not  but  that  puritan  girl  is 
a  thousand  times  more  ignorant  of  the  true  re 
ligion,  than  the  wildest  savage  of  these  forests." 

"That  were  a  shame  indeed,"  exclaimed  the 
maiden  suddenly  and  involuntarily,  the  proud 
current  of  her  English  blood  mounting  high  in 
her  young  cheek,  "  it  were  a  sin  and  a  shame  for 
the  daughter  of  one  of  its  holiest  ministers." 

An  involuntary  start  announced  the  astonish 
ment  of  her  auditors.  They  had  evidently  sup 
posed  their  conversation  unintelligible  to  the 
subject  of  it. 

"  By  the  rood,  Father  Ralle,"  exclaimed  the  Ba 
ron,  turning  with  a  smile  to  the  surprised  and  in 
censed  priest,  "  the  fair  heretic  is  not  so  igno 
rant  as  you  would  imagine.  Nevertheless  you 
must  be  her  father  confessor,  if  it  were  only  to 
absolve  her  from  the  pride  and  sin  of  that  single 
sentence." 

But  the  high  flush  of  indignant  spirit  which  for 
a  moment  had  given  energy  to  her  exhausted 
frame,  was  now  again  vanished.  There  was  yet 
however  another  effort  to  be  made,  suppressing 
for  a  moment  the  sensations  of  deadly  weariness 
that  oppressed  her,  she  drew  nearer  to  the  table 
on  which  they  leaned. 

"  Noble  Baron,  I  pray  your  pit},"  she  exclaim 
ed  in  a  low  and  faultering  voice,  "  I  am  my  fa- 


CASTINE.  243 

ther's  only  child — he  would  purchase  my  ransom 
joyfully." 

"Father  Ralle,  you  will  summon  the  guard," 
exclaimed  ihe  Baron  shuttling  the  papers  before 
him  with  an  air  of  seeming  indifference.  "It  is 
time  that  these  arrangements  were,  completed. 
The  prisoner  may  retire  to  her  apartment.  Let 
it  be  in  the  south  wing  and  you  may  bid  An- 
tionette  attend  her,  until  she  hears  my  further 
pleasure." 

"Will  gold  redeem  me  ?"  continued  the  cap 
tive,  heedless  of  his  orders,  and  unfastening  from 
her  neck,  as  she  spoke,  a  richly  set  miniature. 

"Ah!  beautiful  Lucy  Me  Gregor,"  she  con 
tinued,  gazing  for  a  moment  earnestly  upon  it, 
"  my  mother  will  grieve  bitterly  to  part  with  thee, 
but  surely,  thou  art  not  more  precious  to  her  than 
her  own  living  Lucy.  Baron  Casline,  will  thys  re 
deem  me  ?" 

The  gentlemen  seemed  alike  startled  by  the 
earnestness  of  her  manner  and  a  heavy  frown  for 
a  moment  knit  the  smooth  brows  of  the  Baron,  as 
she  laid  the  jewelled  miniature  on  the  table  be 
fore  him. 

"  A  beautiful  picture  I"  exclaimed  the  priest  in 
a  tone  of  seeming  carelessness.  "  The  diamonds 
are  of  the  first  water  my  Lord,"  he  continued  ap 
proaching  for  a  nearer  survey,  but  the  Baron  had 
now  drawn  it  towards  him,  and  shading  his  face 
with  his  hands  was  evidently  surveying  it  witli 
much  earnestness. 

"  Know  you  aught  of  the  original?"  continued 
the  priest  gazing  curiously  upon  the  prisoner. 
"  Methinks  she  was  no  heretic." 

"  She  was — she  was,"  replied  Lucy,  with  bitter 
ness.  "  When  the  bigots  of  the  Romish  church 


244  CAST1NE. 

wiled  her  away  from  the  true  religion  and  tore 
her  from  her  friends  and  home,  then  indeed  she 
became  a  heretic.  My  Lord,"  she  continued 
turning  to  the  nobleman  who  still  gazed  upon  the 
miniature,  "  she  was  rny  father's  cousin,  and  this 
is  the  last  memorial  which  is  left  him  of  one  who 
was  dearer  to  him  than  life.  And  now  that  too 
is  gone — it  is  yours.  The  gold  is  pure,  and  the 
jewels  are  true  and  costly — only  take  not  away 
his  only  child.  I  pray  you  break  not  altogether 
my  poor  father's  heart." 

The  Baron  de  Castine  raised  his  eye,  a  new  ex 
pression  seemed  to  have  gathered  on  his  pale 
and  haughty  features,  and  Lucy  Everett  read  at 
once  in  that  stern,  cold,  and  angry  glance,  that 
her  prayer  was  rejected.  He*  nature  could  en 
dure  no  more.  The  objects  of  the  apartment 
seemed  swimming  in  sudden  darkness  before  her, 
there  was  a  sensation  like  death,  a  dim  percep 
tion  of  strange  and  stern  faces  bent  around  her, 
and  all  was  vanished.  The  wild  visions  of  deli 
rium  now  succeeded  that  long  train  of  bewilder 
ing  realities;  but  these  were  comparatively  hap 
py,  for  now  came  the  soft  and  beautiful  illusions 
of  home,  a  father's  arm  protected  her  amid  every 
danger,  and  even  in  the  moments  of  her  wildest 
suffering,  the  sweet  melody  of  her  mother's  voice 
lulled  and  soothed  her  spirit. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  illusions  of  a  disordered  fancy  at  length 
floated  quietly  away.  Lucy  Everett  awoke  from 
a  long  and  refreshing  slumber  to  recollection  and 
reason. 

She  was  lying  on  a  couch  of  elegant  work 
manship  beneath  a  light  and  fanciful  covering. 
The  room  though  small,  was  lofty  and  tastefully 
arranged.  A  few  fragrant  and  fresh  gathered 
flowers  lay  scattered  on  the  fair  covering;  and 
a  vase  co..i  lining  a  still  more  beautiful  variety, 
stood  on  the  low  toilette  beside  her. 

It  was  a  bright  still  summer  afternoon,  and  the 
lofty  window  open  before  her,  commanded  a 
prospect  of  extreme  and  varied  beauty.  A  soft 
haze  hung  over  the  quiet  landscape  below — the 
broad  bay,  and  clustering  islands,  and  the  woody 
outline  of  its  far  oft*  shores  leaning  against  the 
cloudless  azure.  A  faint  breeze  was  ju&t  creep 
ing  along  the  sleepy  wave,  sligHly  stirring  the 
folds  of  the  muslin  curtain,  ah  !  freshening  the 
pale  brow  and -cheek  of  the  invalid. 

••  Ah,  Holy  Mary,  thou  hast  heard  my  orisonx," 
exclaimed  a  low  whispering  tone;  and  the  next 
moment  a  tall  young  female  was  bending  over 
her  couch,  her  dark  features  glowing  with  pleas 
ure,  and  her  lip  yet  trembling  with  the  aspirations 


246*  CASTINE. 

of  devotion.  "  Holy  Mary,  mother  of  Jesus,  thou 
hast  heard  thy  suppliant.  The  English  maiden 
shall  not  die  among  strangers." 

There  was  much  that,  to  Lucy  at  least,  seemed 
singular  in  the  person  and  manner  of  the  young 
devotee.  Notwithstanding  the  unusual  richness 
of  her  whole  dress,  and  the  air  of  hauteur  which 
seemed  to  proclaim  the  lady  of  rank,  too  deep  a 
shade  was  mingled  over  her  fine  and  well  form 
ed  features  for  a  daughter  of  the  European  race, 
while  the  soft  glow  that  suffused  her  countenance 
seemed  too  clear  and  vivid  for  the  cheek  of  an 
Indian  maiden.  She  wore  on  her  bosom  a  small 
diamond  cross,  a  golden  rosary  adorned  her  neck, 
and  her  long  dark  hair  was  wound  in  braided 
tresses  around  her  head.  But  the  invalid  felt 
that  it  was  the  face  of  a  stranger ;  and  pained 
and  wearied,  she  turned  away  murmuring  in 
grieved  tones  the  name  of  her  parents,  until  a 
sudden  and  violent  flood  of  weeping  relieved  her 
anguish.  The  stranger,  meanwhile,  still  bent  over 
her,  unconscious  of  the  meaning  of  those  impas 
sioned  words,  and  uttering  in  her  foreign  language, 
every  expression  of  condolence,  which  sympathy 
or  affection  could  suggest. 

"If  you  do  indeed  pity  me,"  exclaimed  Lucy, 
at  length  adopting  the  language  of  her  compan 
ion,  "  let  me  go  home  and  die  in  my  mother's 
arms." 

"  Ah,  no,  heaven  forbid,"  replied  the  young 
lady  with  a  smile.  "You  will  not  die  now. 
Your  hand  is  as  soft  and  as  cold  as  my  own,  and 
the  deep  flush  is  all  faded  out.  No,  English 
maiden,  I  have  not  thus  vainly  told  my  beads. 
The  Holy  Saints  and  the  Blessed  Virgin,  will  not 


CASTINE.  247 

reject  the  orisons  that,   with  fasting  and  incense, 
I  have  offered  them." 

"Oh,  talk  no  more  to  me  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
nor  of  the  Saints,"  interrupted  the  invalid.  "Dear 
lady,  if  you  do  indeed  love  me,  pray  no  more  for 
me  in  those  unworthy  names.  Oh,  it  is  a  bit 
ter  thing  to  die," — she  added,  in  murmuring 
tones, — "but  to  die  among  the  despisers  of  the 
true  faith,  far  away  from  all  who  love  me,  and 
in  the  dwelling  of  this  proud  and  wicked  Ba 
ron " 

Three  successive  times  the  lady  had  crossed 
herself  during  this  burst  of  feeling,  and  at  the 
conclusion  of  it,  her  keen  dark  eye  flashed  with  a 
sudden  expression  of  wounded  pride. 

"The  Baron  de  Castine  is  my  father,"  she  ex 
claimed,  drawing  herself  proudly  up  from  the 
couch,  "and  though  you  are  a  prisoner  of  war, 
and  the  daughter  of  his  enemy,  he  hath  kindly 
and  honorably  treated  you,  as  though  you  were 
of  his  own  nation.  It  was  he  that  bade  me  watch 
by  your  couch,  and  soothe  you  in  your  sickness, 
and  do  all  for  you  that  I  would  have  done  for 
the  sister  of  my  love,  and  now "  The  re 
mainder  of  the  sentence  was  only  told  in  the 
proud  glance,  with  which  she  turned  away  from 
her,  and  walked  slowly  to  the  window.  There 
was  now  a  short  silence,  interrupted  only  by  fre 
quent  and  heavy  sighs  from  the  couch  of  the  in 
valid.  The  eye  of  the  stranger  occasionally  re 
turned,  and  with  every  glance  at  that  pale  and 
lovely  countenance,  her  resentment  seemed  gra 
dually  to  grow  less  powerful,  until  at  length  en 
tirely  forgetting  it,  amid  the  glow  of  generoui 
emotions,  she  again  approached  her  couch. 
"English  maiden,  I  know  that  you  have  suffered 


248  CASTINE. 

long  and  much,  and  I  forgive  your  unkindness. 
Say  no  more,"  she  whispered,  as  an  expression  of 
gratitude  trembled  on  the  lip  of  her  young  charge, 
"  I  know  how  hard  it  is  to  be  parted  from  those 
we  love — and  a  mother  too — my  own  is  far  away 
in  heaven,  and  though  the  daughter  of  the  wild 
Mohican  race,  I  mourned  for  her  none  the  less 
bitterly." 

"Ah,  my  sweet  young  nurse,  my  dear  Lady 
Antoinette,"  exclaimed  a  shrill  quick  voice, 
at  the  door,  "  how  fares  your  invalid,  this  af 
ternoon." 

"  Better,  a  thousand  times  better,"  was  the 
reply.  "  Come  in,  Madame  La  Framboise, 
and  sec  if  she  be  not  changed,  since  yester 
day." 

A  small  and  delicate  female  now  opened  the 
door,  and  gently  approached  the  couch.  "Ah, 
yes,  my  dear  young  lady,"  she  exclaimed,  after 
examining,  for  a  few  moments,  the  pulse  of  the 
patient,  which  though  yet  languid,  was  now 
calm  and  regular.  "  The  maiden  needs  only 
your  kind  and  gentle  nursing,  and  she  is  well. 
And  now,"  she  added  in  a  livelier  tone,  "I  may 
do  you  my  message  from  Lieutenant  Beaumont ; 
he  says,  if  you  do  not  join  the  dance  this  even- 
ing " 

"  Hush,  hush,  Madame  La  Framboise,"  ex 
claimed  the  other,  interrupting  her,  "  how  can 
you  thus  disturb  my  patient?"  and  leading  her 
to  the  door,  she  added  in  a  whisper,  "If  the 
prisoner  continues  better,  I  will  join  you  again 
at  vespers." 

A  profound  stillness  now  reigned  in  the  apart 
ment,  or  if  any  sounds  came  upon  the  breeze 
from  below,  they  were  softened  and  blended  in 


CASTING.  249 

the  distance,  like  some  faint  cradle  air,  and  long 
ere  the  vesper  bell  had  chimed  through  the  pal 
ace,  the  English  captive  had  sunk  into  a  gentle 
slumber. 

Madame  La  Framboise  had  not  vainly  calculated 
upon  the  effect  of  the  unwearied  attentions  of  the 
Lady  Antoinette,  and  in  a  few  days  more,  her  unfor 
tunate  charge  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  walk  from 
her  couch  to  the  window,  while  the  faint  pink  of 
returning  health,  hourly  deepened  on  her  coun 
tenance.  The  subjects  of  reflection,  however, 
which  now  constantly  engaged  her  attention, 
were  such  as  might  naturally  be  supposed  to  re 
tard  her  recovery.  The  extreme  hopelessness  of 
her  situation, — for  a  long  and  bloody  war  was 
just  opening  upon  the  colonists, — her  anxiety  for 
the  fate  of  her  parents,  and  the  idea  of  wasting, 
within  her  prison  walls,  the  bloom  of  that  exist 
ence  which  she  would  joyfully  have  devoted  to 
their  happiness,  all  contributed  to  lower  that  pitch 
of  elastic  feeling,  with  which  we  are  wont  to 
arise  from  the  couch  of  languishing.  She  was 
not  indeed  insensible  to  the  many  alleviations  of 
her  fate.  The  kind  Antoinette  had  frequently 
assured  her  of  the  utmost  exertions  of  her  influ 
ence  ;  but  the  idea  of  escape  from  that  well 
guarded  fortress,  was  too  hopeless  even  for  the 
longing  fancy  of  the  captive, — and  might  this  be 
effected,  the  impossibility  of  finding  her  way 
through  the  forest,  effectually  checked  every 
project  which  friendship  or  hope  could  sug 
gest. 

It  was  in  one  of  these  dispirited  frames,  that 
the  captive  one  evening  sat  by  her  window, 
watching  the  last  lingerings  of  day  upon  the  dis 
tant  hills,  and  warbling  a  few  catches  of  her  fa- 


250  CASTINE. 

ther's  favorite  air,  while  her  thoughts  wandered 
far  away,  over  the  expanse  of  wave  and  forest, 
to  the  lovely  and  beloved  home  of  her  childhood. 
The  noise  in  the  court  beneath  had  meanwhile 
gradually  diminished ;  and  on  casting  her  eye 
downward,  she  perceived  that  the  group  of  In 
dians  and  soldiers,  who  a  short  time  before  had 
crowded  the  pavement,  was  now  gradually  dimin 
ishing,  until  only  a  single  Indian  remained  in 
sight.  He  was  apparently  engaged  in  mending  a 
broken  bow ;  but  Lucy  noticed  that  as  he  persever 
ed  in  his  employment,  his  eyes  were  occasionally 
directed,  as  if  by  stealth,  to  the  windows  of  her 
apartment. 

There  was  nothing  in  his  appearance  or  em 
ployment,  at  all  peculiar,  save  that  he  hummed 
as  he  worked,  occasional  snatches  of  that  well 
remembered  song,  which  Alaska  had  formerly 
used  as  the  vehicle  of  his  communications  to  her 
in  the  forest ;  and  at  times  too,  she  fancied  that 
the  voice  itself  seemed  familiar.  But  the  object 
of  her  curiosity  soon  arose  from  the  pavement ; 
and  after  gazing  cautiously  about  him,  he  turned 
suddenly  and  directed  his  aim  against  the  palace 
walls.  Lucy  now  watched  his  seemingly  unim 
portant  manoeuvres  with  intense  interest,  for  the 
light  was  still  sufficient  to  reveal  the  form  and 
features  of  the  noble  hearted  Alaska. 

Several  times  he  had  shot  carelessly  against 
the  wall,  as  if  to  test  the  mended  string ;  but 
Lucy  had  noticed  that  each  successive  time  the 
aim  was  higher,  and  she  was  seeking  to  ascertain 
whether  this  circumstance  was  irvle*  d  accidental, 
when  she  perceived  with  surprise  that  he  had 
again  fixed  his  aim,  and  was  evidently  about  to 
let  fly  his  arrow,  precisely  at  the  spot  where  she 


CASTINE.  251 

now  stood.  In  a  moment  she  had  retreated  from 
the  window,  and  the  next,  the  arrow  whizzed  past 
her. 

It  was  several  moments  ere  she  had  sufficiently 
recovered  from  her  surprise  to  venture  from  her 
retreat,  and  she  then  timidly  approached  to  ex 
amine  the  arrow.  A  dark  coil  was  wound  around 
one  of  its  extremities.  It  yielded  to  her  touch, 
and  the  next  moment  a  bracelet  dropped  to  the 
floor.  It  was  her  own,  and  braided  of  one  of 
those  auburn  locks  that  had  waved  on  her  mo 
ther's  head  in  the  day  of  her  youth  and  beauty ; 
and,  with  a  sudden  cry  of  joy,  the  captive  at 
once  realized  that  she  beheld  a  token  from  her 
distant  home.  She  leaned  again  from  the  win 
dow. 

"They  who  send  you  this  token,  maiden,"  said 
Alaska,  in  low  and  distinct  tones,  glancing  cau 
tiously  around  him,  "  bade  me  bring  you  this  mes 
sage  also.  When  one  sun  more  has  set,  a  guide 
will  wait  for  you  on  yonder  shore.  English  mai 
den,  there  is  one  within  who  can  help  you.  The 
daughter  of  the  white  chief  is  good  and  gentle, 
she  hath  the  heart  of  a  Mohican,  and  she  is 
mighty.  All  night  the  guides  will  wait  for 
you,  at  the  white  rock  beyond  the  hut  of  Was- 
saic." 

At  that  moment,  the  deep  toned  bell  announ 
ced  that  the  hour  of  vespers  was  past ;  and 
Alaska  speedily  retreated  to  a  distant  part  of 
the  court.  While  yet  trembling  with  the  amaze 
ment  which  this  communication  had  excited,  a 
rapid  step  was  heard  along  the  corridor,  and  An 
toinette  presented  herself  at  the  door.  That  she 
was  the  person  to  whom  Alaska  alluded,  Lucy 


252  CASTINE. 

could  not  for  a  moment  doubt ;  and  the  singular 
and  uniform  kindness  with  which  she  had  from 
the  first  regarded  her,  together  with  the  repeated 
assurance  of  her  sympathy  and  assistance,  all 
designated  her  as  a  proper  object  for  confi 
dence. 

The  Lady  Antoinette  listened  in  silence  to  the 
brief  detail.  She  trod  swiftly  up  and  down  the 
apartment,  and  there  seemed  a  conflict  of  over 
whelming  feelings. 

"  Forgive  me,  Lady  Antoinette,"  exclaimed 
Lucy,  at  length  interrupting  the  painful  silence, 
"  if  I  have  presumed  too  much  on  your  friend 
ship.  I  had  thought — but  I  was  wrong.  Do  not 
agitate  yourself,  Lady  Antoinette,  you  are  freed 
from  any  engagements  you  may  in  your  careless 
moments  have  made  me." 

"  Speak  lower,  Mademoiselle,"  replied  her 
companion,  pointing  to  the  door  of  the  apart 
ment,  "  the  guards  were  at  this  end  of  the  corri 
dor  as  I  passed,  and  if  they  overhear  us  we  are 
ruined.  I  know,  my  dear  girl,  that  suspicions 
are  awakened  ;  for  when  I  kneeled  at  my  confes 
sions  this  morning,  the  holy  Father  bade  me  re 
member  a  sin  of  far  more  deadly  hue  than  aught 
that  I  had  owned,  and  warned  me  of  the  guilt  of 
loving  those  whom  the  church  regards  only  with 
holy  horror.  But,  Lucy,  I  do  indeed  love  you," 
she  added,  pausing  before  her,  and  her  dark  eyes 
filling  with  tears.  "  Stranger  and  heretic  though 
you  are,  I  love  you,  may  the  Blessed  Virgin  for 
give  me; — and  for  myself,  I  would  joyfully  incur 
all  the  anger  and  reproach,  if  so  I  could  effect 
your  escape.  But,  Lucy,  I  cannot  do  this  alone. 
I  must  exert  my  influence  over  those  that  love 


CASTINE.  253 

me,  to  do  that  which  would  dishonor  their  noble 
names, — secretly  and  treacherously  to  release  the 
prisoners  whom  the  blood  of  their  soldiers  hath 
purchased.  Ah,  that  any  should  do  this  for  the 
love  of  Antoinette  de  Castine  !  I  could  do  all  but 
this  for  you,  Lucy  Everett." 

"  I  believe  it,  dear  lady.  I  believe  that  you 
would  do  all  for  me,  that  is  kind  and  honorable  ; 
and  I  desire  no  more.  Forgive  me,  if  the  idea  of 
liberty  and  happiness,  hath  made  me  selfish.  Dear 
Antoinette,  I  have  had  fearful  thoughts  to-day,  I 
know  that  the  priests  of  your  religion  have  ever 
deemed  the  blood  of  such  an  one  as  I,  a  grateful 
offering  to  heaven.  Antoinette,  I  am  a  daughter 
of  the  Puritans,  and  who  knows  what  dark  trials 
are  now  in  store  for  me.  No — look  not  incredu 
lous.  I  have  read  too  well  the  history  of  your 
church  and  mine.  Far  better  had  it  been  for  me 
to  have  died  in  the  forest." 

"  Lucy  Everett,"  replied  Antoinette,  after  some 
minutes  of  thoughtful  silence,  "  we  must  make 
Madame  La  Framboise  our  confidant.  Aye, — do 
not  fear  her  ;  she  is  a  Catholic  indeed,  but  so  are 
we  all,  and  she  is  full  of  invention  and  skill,  and 
knows  well  how"  to  conduct  such  stratagems  as 
we  shall  have  need  of.  I  know  too  that  she  pities 
your  misfortunes." 

Antoinette  now  drew  towards  the  door. 
"Do  not  be  surprised,"  she  added,  in  a  whis 
per,  "  if  I  see  you  no  more  to-night.  If  sus 
picions  are  once  excited,  my  efforts  are  all  in 
vain.  But  I  promise  you,  by  the  Mass,  and 
by  this  image  of  our  Blessed  Mary,  that  I  will 
not  fail  to  exert  my  whole  soul,  for  your  de 
liverance." 

22 


254  CASTINE. 


Lucy  Everett  could  not  for  a  moment  doubt 
the  sincerity  of  this  earnest  appeal ;  but  her 
heart  died  within  her,  as  the  sound  of  retreating 
steps  grew  faint  in  the  distance,  and  she  found 
herself  once  more  alone,  in  the  solitude  of  her 
prison. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


IT  was  a  sleepless  night  for  more  than  one  in 
the  palace  of  Castine;  and  ere  the  pale  beam  of 
morning  had  looked  through  her  curtains,  Lucy 
had  arisen  from  her  weary  couch,  to  await  with 
renewed  fearfulness  the  crisis  of  her  doom.  It 
was  not  until  the  hour  of  noon,  that  Antoinette 
again  presented  herself.  Her  finger  was  on  her 
lip  as  she  entered  ;  and  for  some  minutes  only  a 
few  trivial  remarks  were  uttered,  evidently  in 
tended  for  the  ears  of  those  without. 

"I  have  confided  our  secret  to  Madame  La 
Framboise,"  she  at  last  whispered,  drawing  her 
to  a  remote  corner  of  the  room, — "  and  she  hath 
promised  her  aid  to  the  uttermost." 

"And  is  there  any  hope,  dear  Antoinette?" 
exclaimed  Lucy,  breathing  quick  and  gasp 
ingly. 

"Becalm — be  calm,  my  friend," — whispered 
the  other.  "  It  is  to  your  own  composure  and 
presence  of  mind,  that  you  must  now  trust  for 
deliverance.  My  brother  hath  this  morning  un 
expectedly  returned  from  Quebec.  Fear  him 
not,  Lucy.  I  know  he  hath  the  name  of  a  proud 
and  haughty  youth.  He  hath  been  much  in  the 
high  palaces  of  the  earth  until  his  mien  hath  in 
deed  caught  something  of  their  loftiness,  but 


256  CASTINE. 

few  have  kinder  hearts,  than  Louis  de  Cas- 
tine." 

"  And  is  it  him  that  you  would  persuade  to 
assist  us?" 

"  No,  Lucy.  For  the  world,  I  would  not  have 
it  said  that  he  connived  at  tiiis  project.  The 
shame — the  disgrace,  must  all  be  mine.  But  no 
— to  relieve  a  sister  in  distress,  be  she  catholic 
or  heretic,  friend  or  enemy,  will  never  degrade 
the  high  purity  of  a  woman's  honor  ; — and  even  if 
it  would,  for  you  I  could  bear  it  joyfully.  But, 
Lucy,  hear  me.  The  Wassaic  is  of  my  mother's 
kindred,  and  Louis  and  I  love  well  a  moonlight 
sail  along  those  waters.  They  are  counted  safe 
at  present,  and  when  the  dews  begin  to  fall,  I  will 
ask  him  to  row  me  to  the  dwelling  of  the  Wassaic, 
the  chief  of  my  mother's  tribe." 

"  And  how  is  it  possible,  dear  Antoinette,  even 
could  I  escape  from  these  guards,  to  accompany 
you  unseen  by  him  ?" 

"  You  cannot,  Lucy,"  replied  the  other,  in  a  still 
lower  tone,  "  you  cannot  accompany  me,  you  must 
go  in  my  stead." 

Lucy  felt  at  once  that  the  project  was  not 
hopeless.  The  French  maiden  was  tall  and 
slender  like  herself;  and  though  her  complexion 
and  whole  countenance,  presented  a  striking 
contrast  to  her  own,  now  pale  and  delicate, 
from  recent  illness,  the  plan  was  yet  worth 
attempting.  A  careful  disguise  would  do  much 
towards  concealing  it;  and  the  darkness  of  even 
ing,  more. 

"  And  if  the  discovery  should  take  place  too 
soon,"  exclaimed  Lucy,  as  these  thoughts  passed 
hastily  through  her  mind. 

"  Tell   him  the  whole,  dear  Lucy.     He  has  a 


CASTINE.  257 

kind  and  generous  heart ;  and  I  know  that,  for 
my  sake,  he  will  not  betray  you.  And  as  for  the 
idea  of  his  assisting  your  escape,  if  he  alarms  the 
palace  on  his  return  with  the  news  of  it,  it  will 
be  enough.  Dear  Lucy,  do  not  tremble  thus. 
Keep  your  soul  calm  and  quiet  for  this  emergen 
cy.  No,  I  cannot  stay,"  she  added,  as  the  cap 
tive  would  fain  have  detained  her  longer.  "  Mad 
ame  La  Framboise  is  at  this  moment  waiting  for 
me.  Fear  nothing,  Lucy,  only  be  cool  and  col 
lected." 

Notwithstanding  this  latter  injunction,  the  re 
mainder  of  the  afternoon  was  passed  by  the  captive 
in  a  state  of  excitement,  bordering  on  distraction. 
One  moment,  home  with  its  thousand  soothing 
endearments,  friends,  and  kindred,  all  seemed  her 
own  ;  the  agony  of  fear  was  over  and  she  lay 
a  free  and  happy  being  weeping  on  her  mother's 
bosom.  The  next,  an  imprisonment  far  more 
gloomy  and  hopeless,  arose  to  her  fancy ;  she 
remembered  the  ferocity  of  the  Roman  priest 
hood,  and  cruelties  untried  and  unknown,  nay, 
death  itself,  seemed  the  fearful  alternative. 

Overcome  with  these  agitating  reflections,  she 
had  hardly  noticed  the  flight  of  time,  until  the 
broad  disk  of  the  sun  just  lingered  above  the  for 
est,  throwing  a  last  flood  of  radiance  over  the 
objects  of  her  apartment.  The  captive  now 
ceased  her  wearied  step;  and  with  flushed  cheek 
and  throbbing  heart  she  threw  herself  on  her 
couch,  seeking  with  a  strong  effort  to  recover 
something  of  that  calmness  which  she  knew  her 
exigencies  so  much  required.  Several  minute* 
more  elapsed,  ere  any  sound  broke  the  stillness. 
Gay  voices  were  then  heard  in  conversation  with 
out; — the  lock  turned,  and  the  next  moment 
22* 


258  CASTINE. 

Madame  La  Framboise  and  the  Lady  Antoinette 
stood  within. 

"  Hasten,  Mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  Madame 
La  Framboise,  as  with  rapid  movements  she  now 
unfastened  the  veil.  "  Fifteen  minutes  more, 
and  the  vesper  bell  will  toll ; — we  must  lose  no 
moments." 

The  exchange  of  dresses  was  quickly  made ; 
but  it  was  in  vain  that  Antoinette  strove  to  as 
sume  an  appearance  of  composure.  Her  hand 
trembled  violently,  as  she  clasped  the  rosary 
about  the  neck  of  her  friend  ;  and  her  efforts  at 
firmness  only  rendered  her  tones  more  faultering, 
as  she  repeatedly  murmured  that  there  was  no 
cause  for  fear.  Madame  La  Framboise  alone 
seemed  calm  and  collected.  With  surprising 
composure  she  arranged  and  re-arranged  the 
beautiful  apparel,  until  each  slight  dissimilarity 
of  figure  had  vanished,  and  the  metamorphosis 
seemed  complete. 

"  And  now  fear  nothing,  Lucy  Everett,"  ex 
claimed  Antionette,  "  the  boat  is  ready  and  Louis 
hath  promised  to  go  the  moment  that  Vespers  are 
over.  You  must  attend  the  Mass — nay,  I  would 
have  saved  you  the  trial  if  I  could,  but  you 
will  not  be  detected.  A  few  moments  since 
I  left  the  drawing  room  in  that  very  dress  ; 
and  if  you  are  silent  no  one  will  suspect  the 
change.  Draw  the  veil  closely  around. your  face 
in  the  chapel;  Louis  de  Castine  will  meet  you  at 
the  door,  for  the  rest,  trust  Heaven." 

The  arrangements  were  now  completed,  but 
Lucy  Everett  still  lingered.  Amid  the  confusion, 
the  hurry  and  agony  of  suspense,  the  idea  of  a 
separation  from  her  generous  benefactress,  had 
scarcely  occupied  a  moment's  attention,  and  until 


CASTIXE.  259 

now  she  had  never  perceived  how  strong  wore 
the  feelings  which  that  unwearied  kindness  had 
kindled.  The  ties  of  human  love  are  various  as 
the  tints  of  autumn  leaves  ;  but  there  are  none 
more  tender  and  beautiful,  than  those  which 
spring  up  between  the  lonely  and  the  sorrowing, 
and  those  who  have  lightened  their  sorrows  or 
gladdened  their  loneliness.  The  catholic  and 
puritan  wept  like  sisters  in  the  parting  embrace. 

"  Hasten,  hasten,"  interrupted  Madam  la  Fram 
boise,  "  the  minutes  are  precious  and — hark — 
there  is  the  vesper  bell." 

"  Fare  thee  well,  sweet  English  maiden,"  said 
Antionette,  at  length  withdrawing  her  embrace. 
"  We  shall  see  each  others'  faces  no  more  here, 
but  by  the  cross  and  rosary  on  your  neck,  remem 
ber  the  catholic  girl  that  loved  you." 

"Come,  come,  Lady  Antoinette,"  said  Madame 
La  Framboise,  drawing  Lucy's  arm  in  hers  as  she 
threw  open  the  door.  "  If  you  linger  longer  here, 
the  mass  will  be  over  ere  we  reach  the  chapel," 
and  so  saying  she  sallied  forth  into  the  corridor, 
with  her  trembling  companion.  The  bell  still 
tolled  as  they  hurried  on. 

"Ah  me,  Lady  Antoinette,"  exclaimed  Madam 
La  Framboise  as  they  drew  near  the  soldiers  who 
guarded  the  entrance  of  the  hall,  "  how  I  pitj 
these  solitary  prisoners.  I  am  sure  if  I  were  yon 
der  English  captive,  I  should  have  died  long  ago 
of  very  loneliness." 

Lucy  clasped  her  arm  convulsively  in  hers,  for 
at  that  moment  they  were  passing  the  door. 
The  soldiers  bowed  reverently,  and  they  moved 
on  unquestioned  and  unsuspected.  They  still 
pressed  on  through  several  lofty  and  dimly  lighted 
apartments. 


260  CASTINE. 

"  We  are  almost  at  the  chapel,"  said  her  com 
panion  in  a  whisper,  as  they  descended  a  narrow 
staircase.  "The  saints  be  praised — we  have  en 
countered  no  one  as  yet,  and  the  danger  is  almost 
over.  Imitate  me,  my  dear  young  lady,  when  we 
enter  and  fear  nothing.  The  Holy  Virgin  will 
protect  you." 

Lucy  had  now  need  of  some  higher  encourage 
ment  than  aught  which  the  benediction  of  the 
catholic  could  impart,  for  at  that  moment  the 
bell  ceased,  the  door  opened,  and  amid  a  stream 
of  pure  and  beautiful  light  they  moved  slowly 
through  the  aisles  of  the  chapel.  Oh  the  tumult 
and  agony  of  that  moment !  To  the  agitated  heart 
of  the  prisoner,  every  eye  in  this  throng  of  wor 
shippers,  seemed  at  once  to  have  detected  be 
neath  her  light  disguise,  the  form  and  features 
of  the  English  Heretic.  But  this  was  soon  past. 
In  a  moment  after,  she  was  bowing  beside  her 
companion,  silent  and  unnoticed. 

A  quick  succession  of  overpowering  ideas 
crowded  to  the  mind  of  the  young  puritan,  as 
those  rites  and  ceremonies  which  from  her  ear 
liest  recollection  she  had  regarded  only  with  un- 
mingled  horror,  now  burst  upon  her  in  all  their 
imposing  splendor.  She  raised  her  eye,  loosen 
ing  for  a  moment  the  crowded  folds  that  veiled  her 
features.  The  lights,  the  pictures,  the  wreathing 
music,  the  low,  rich  mournful  melody  from  the 
chanting  choir,  all  came  over  her  bewildered  fan 
cy  like  the  dim  shadows  of  that  land  where  the 
faint  perceptions  of  faith  vanish  amid  the  light 
of  glorious  realities. 

Surprised  and  indignant  at  this  powerful  effect 
on  her  feelings,  she  now  strove  altogether  to  di 
vert  her  attention,  and  in  wandering  over  the 


CAST1NK  2C1 

chapel,  her  eye  became  fixed  on  a  figure  near  the 
door,  standing  alone  and  erect  amid  the  kneeling 
throng.  The  rich  military  habit  denoted  an  ele 
vated  rank,  and  a  look  of  calm  and  conscious  su 
periority  lingered  on  every  feature.  There  were 
traces  of  deep  thought  and  feeling  on  his  counte 
nance,  almost  contradicting  the  extreme  youth 
otherwise  indicated.  His  eye  wandered  careless 
ly  over  the  kneeling  assembly,  and  now  and  ihen 
a  shade  of  contempt  deepened  the  cold  smile 
with  which  he  surveyed  them.  Lucy  gazed  for  a 
moment  in  suspense,  but  it  was  only  for  a  mo 
ment ;  and  with  a  thrill  of  delight  and  astonish 
ment  she  now  recognized  the  lonely  and  disguised 
stranger  who  had  once  so  deeply  claimed  her 
sympathy. 

"Are  you  mad  young  maiden?''  said  a  low 
whisper  beside  her,  at  once  recalling  the  recol 
lection  of  her  fearful  situation.  "Have  the  cath 
olics  no  eyes?  For  heaven's  sake  draw  your  veil, 
or  we  are  ruined."  Madam  La  Framboise  might 
well  utter  these  astonished  and  terrified  excla 
mations;  for  in  the  joy  of  that  unexpected  re 
cognition,  her  young  companion  had  for  a  mo 
ment  forgotten  the  perilous  circumstances  that 
surrounded  her.  Quickly  and  tremblingly  the 
injunction  was  obeyed  ;  the  worshippers  were 
rising,  and  in  the  ceremonies  which  now  ensued 
every  nerve  was  indeed  in  fearful  requisition. 
At  length  the  last  benediction  was  said,  the  as 
sembly  began  quickly  to  disperse;  and  Lucy 
Everett,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  companion, 
moved  slowly  through  the  crowded  aisle. 

Notwithstanding  the  drapery  which  now  so 
thickly  veiled  her  features,  Lucy  could  still  dimly 
perceive  the  form  of  the  young  officer  standing 


262  CASTINE. 

unmoved,  near  the  entrance.  They  were  ap 
proaching  the  spot  where  he  stood,  and  a  single 
word  or  look  might  make  him  aware  of  her 
presence.  But  at  that  moment,  a  quick  pres 
sure  of  her  arm  again  warned  her  of  the  perils 
around  her. 

"  Look,  Antoinette,"  said  her  companion  in  her 
usual  careless  tone,  "  see  here  is  your  brother 
waiting  to  accompany  you." 

"  Where,  where,"  whispered  Lucy,  returning 
the  grasp  convulsively,  and  in  vain  seeking  to 
discover  among  the  crowd  the  person  to  whom 
she  alluded. 

"  Hush,  dear  child,  there  is  no  danger,"  whis 
pered  the  other,  and  then  aloud,  "  we  will  wait 
here  for  him,  Antoinette.  It  cannot  be  long  ere 
he  joins  us." 

But  at  that  moment  another  glimpse  at  the 
mysterious  stranger,  again  absorbed  her  whole  at 
tention.  His  eye  was  earnestly  fixed  upon  her. 
Had  he  then  detected  her  earnest  glances?  Her 
heart  throbbed  convulsively,  for  he  was  now  ad 
vancing  to  meet  them. 

"  Come  Antoinette,  are  you  ready  ?"  said  the 
stranger  in  that  well  remembered  voice,  which 

had  last  rung  on  her  ear  amid  the  forest  of  H . 

"  The  boat  is  waiting  for  us.  Are  you  ready  for 
the  excursion  ?" 

"Ready — aye  that  she  is,"  answered  Madame 
La  Framboise,  disregarding  the  sudden  emotion 
evinced  by  her  companion.  "  You  had  better 
take  your  brother's  arm,  Antoinette,"  she  contin 
ued  with  a  slight  and  meaning  pressure,  and  at 
the  same  time  disengaging  herself  from  her  cling 
ing  grasp.  "  You  will  hardly  return  before  mid 
night,  and  so  I  bid  you  good  evening,"  continued 


CASTINE.  203 

the  lady  as  they  moved  into  the  hall.  "  A  pleas 
ant  row,"  and  smiling  and  bowing  she  disap 
peared. 

Surprised,  bewildered,  and  embarrassed  beyond 
measure,  with  her  arm  in  that  of  her  companion, 
Lucy  now  moved  rapidly  through  the  palace. 
He — the  brother  of  Antoinette  de  Castine — and 
she  could  scarce  restrain  the  expressions  of  her 
doubt  and  amazement,  as  with  rapid  and  almost 
unconscious  steps  she  now  trod  the  pavement 
without.  To  reveal  herself  at  once,  and  claim 
his  protection,  was  her  first  hasty  resolution  ;  but 
the  next  moment  the  conversation  of  her  bene 
factress  returned  to  her  recollection.  It  was 
Louis  de  Castine  as  well  as  the  stranger  whose 
life  her  own  exertions  had  once  redeemed ;  and 
though  the  idea  of  personal  danger  had  now  van 
ished,  every  other  reason  for  maintaining  her  dis 
guise  as  long  as  practicable,  was  still  as  urgent 
as  before.  At  length  they  stood  on  the  shore, 
just  above  the  point  where  Lucy  and  her  sav 
age  companions  had  first  landed.  It  was  a  clear 
and  beautiful  night,  the  dewy  breeze  blew  cool 
and  gently  over  her,  as  she  landed  in  the  shadow 
of  the  rock  while  her  companion  slowly  loosened 
the  boat  from  its  moorings.  The  sweet  waters  of 
the  Penobscot  lay  before  them,  smooth  and  beau 
tiful,  now  and  then  softly  leaving  the  pebbled 
shore ;  and  the  sounds  of  life  came  in  low  and 
mingled  murmurs  from  the  height  above. 

The  soul  of  the  young  maiden  grew  calm  amid 
these  soothing  influences.  And  now  as  the  light 
oars  rose  and  fell,  slowly  and  gracefully,  the  boat 
moved  forth  from  the  shadows  of  the  shore,  scarce 
ly  leaving  a  trace  of  her  light  path  amid  the  li 
quid  moonbeams.  Lucy,  Everett  gazed  on  the 


264  CASTING. 

dark  rock  and  its  frowning  walls,  so  long  her  pris 
on,  now  slowly  receding  in  the  distance,  and  for 
the  first  time  amid  the  agitating  events  of  the 
evening,  the  consciousness  of  her  freedom  rushed 
upon  her  mind.  Those  fearful  barriers  were  at 
length  past — the  guarded  hall,  the  court,  the  bat 
tlements,  all  were  safely  past,  she  was  no  longer 
a  captive ;  and  her  whole  soul  rose,  like  a  freed 
bird  rejoicing. 

"  Antoinette,"  exclaimed  her  companion,  now 
for  the  first  time  interrupting  the  stillness,  "you 
have  grown  strangely  silent  since  vespers." 

"  Aye." 

"  Aye,  indeed,  but  it  is  not  your  usual  fault,  and 
I  acknowledge  it  requires  some  vanity  to  inter 
rupt  this  beautiful  stillness.  1  can  forgive  you, 
Antoinette,  and  the  more  especially  as  I  am  de 
termined  for  this  evening  to  engross  a  due  share 
of  the  conversation  myself." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  his  companion,  hardly  da 
ring  to  exceed  the  monosyllable. 

"  Yes,  a  new  resolution  you  think.  But  a 
truce  to  your  railing  now,  Antoinette.  It  will  do 
well  enough  for  yonder  gay  drawing  room,  but 
even  my  sad  words  and  feelings  better  become 
an  hour  like  this.  Indeed,  Antoinette,"  he  added 
in  a  different  tone,  "  I  have  more  causes  for  sad 
ness  than  you  dream  of." 

Lucy  felt  painfully  that  her  part  was  now  in 
deed  but  ill  performed.  She  well  knew  what 
rich  tones  of  kindness  such  an  annunciation 
would  have  drawn  from  the  affectionate  Antoi 
nette,  but  she  dared  not  to  trust  her  voice  and 
she  was  silent. 

"To  commence  then,  with  my  important  com 
munication,"  continued  the  youth,  "  I  am  about 


CASTINE.  265 

to  leave  you,  Antoinette.  In  five  days  I  sail  for 
France."  He  paused  and  seemed  waiting  for 
her  comments,  but  only  a  sudden  start  announced 
the  emotion  of  his  audi tress.  "  You  are  doubt 
less  surprised  at  a  resolution  like  this,  at  such  a 
crisis.  I  know  that  the  war  which  is  but  just 
opening  upon  these  colonies,  seems  to  you  only  a 
field  of  glory,  where  I  might  reap  the  laurels  for 
which  I  have  so  long  panted.  But,  Antoinette, 
it  is  that  very  crisis  which  occasions  my  depart 
ure.  In  such  a  war  there  is — there  can  be,  no 
honorable  part  for  me." 

"  And  why  ?"  exclaimed  Lucy,  who  felt  that  si 
lence  now  would  not  be  overlooked. 

"Do  not  mistake  me,  Antoinette.  To  the  war 
in  general,  my  remark  has  no  application.  As  a 
war  between  France  and  England,  I  would  yield 
my  last  life-drop  freely  in  its  battles.  But  as 
waged  in  these  distant  portions  of  the  kingdom, 
a  mere  tool  of  selfish  and  fiendish  purposes — as  a 
war  between  the  catholics  and  colonists — as  a 
war  of  bloody  and  unprovoked  extermination  be 
tween  a  few  ambitious  arid  powerful  individuals, 
and  a  simple,  high  minded  people,  I  cannot — I 
will  n<»t  engage  in  it.  Antoinette,  you  are  my  fa 
ther's  child  and  have  ever  been  to  me  a  true 
and  noble  hearted  sister.  I  will  withhold  noth 
ing  from  you." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  the  impropriety,  the 
indelicacy  of  thus  intruding  upon  his  confidence, 
became  now  so  extremely  embarrassing  to  his  com 
panion,  that  only  a  constant  recurrence  to  the  in 
structions  of  her  benefactress,  prevented  her  from 
revealing  her  character.  But  surely  it  would  ill 
become  her,  to  cast  a  blot  upon  the  name  of  one 
whom  Antoinette  called  brother;  and  determin- 

23 


-66  CASTINE. 

ing  to  preserve  her  disguise,  until  the  appearance 
of  her  promised  guides,  should  relieve  her  com 
panion  from  all  wilful  share  in  her  escape,  she 
still  maintained  a  painful  silence. 

"Antoinette,"  continued  the  youth,  "among 
the  individuals  of  whom  I  speak,  you  know  that 
the  Baron  Castine  is  pre-eminent.  He  is  your 
father,  and  mine,  and  as  such  I  would  fain  speak 
of  him  with  reverence  ;  but  as  to  this  unnatural 
and  deadly  policy  which  he  is  now  adopting,  I 
must  say  of  it,  and  will  say  it  fearlessly — my 
whole  soul  abhors  it.  Think  for  a  moment,  An 
toinette,  if  you  can,  of  that  fearful  system  of  means 
in  operation  around  us.  Think  of  the  high  and 
holy  influences  of  religion,  so  awfully  perverted 
as  to  arouse,  and  keep  forever  alive  in  the  minds 
of  these  savages,  those  deadly  passions  which  are 
to  be  satisfied  only  with  the  extermination  of 
these  puritan  colonies.  And,  Antoinette,  you 
know  too  the  fearful  circumstances  of  their  war 
fare.  Think,  if  you  can,  without  shuddering,  of 
these  beautiful  settlements  laid  waste,  and  hun 
dreds  and  hundreds  of  helpless  beings  captured 
or  murdered  in  cold  blood,  without  the  shadow  of 
a  crime,  and  all  for  the  aggrandizement  of  a 
single  ambitious  individual.  I  say,  Antoinette, 
I  will  never  soil  my  spirit  with  any  agency,  how 
ever  remote,  in  crimes  like  these.  I  have  made 
one  effort,  and  it  shall  be  my  last.  Our  estate  in 
France  requires  my  presence  ;  and  there  I  shall 
await  the  termination  of  this  struggle." 

"  Antoinette,"  continued  the  young  officer  after 
a  few  moment's  pause,  interpreting  the  silence 
of  his  companion  into  an  expression  of  displeas 
ure,  "  I  have  spoken  warmly,  but  I  would  that 
you  at  least  should  know  the  secret  springs  of 


CASTINE.  267 

my  actions,  and  1  will  say  yet  more.  The  church 
whose  authority  you  reverence,  the  religion  you 
love,  with  all  its  allurements,  its  splendid  and  im 
posing  forms  of  devotion,  I  have  learned  to  look 
upon  as  only  a  mighty  fabric  of  human  pride  and 
error.  Nay  more,  the  doctrines  of  those  whom, 
from  your  earliest  recollection,  you  have  been 
taught  to  despise  as  heretics,  are  to  me  the  pure 
and  sublime  revelations  of  Heaven.  Antoinette, 
my  mother  was  a  protestant." 

"  A  protestant  ?"  replied  his  companion  invo 
luntarily. 

"Aye,  I  had  thought  you  aware  of  this  circum 
stance.  She  died  indeed  in  my  early  infancy 
but  not  until  she  had  stamped  her  own  sweet  pic 
ture  on  my  memory,  the  image  of  all  things  holy 
and  beautiful.  My  childhood  too  was  past  among 
the  cottages  of  the  Waldenses,  in  the  dwelling  of 
my  nurse,  a  simple  and  pious  woman,  to  whose 
care  my  mother's  dying  lips  had  consigned  my 
earliest  years.  It  was  there,  where  "  the  bones  of 
slaughtered  saints  lay  bleaching  on  the  Alpine 
mountains  cold,"  in  those  valleys  where  the  blood 
of  the  true  and  holy  had  in  all  ages  been  poured 
forth  like  water,  that  I  learned  to  love  those  per 
secuted  exiles,  and  surely  it  would  ill  become 
such  an  one  to  stain  his  hand  in  their  blood.  But, 
Antoinette,  I  will  say  no  more  on  this  subject," 
continued  the  youth,  after  again  pausing  in  vain 
for  a  reply.  "  It  must  ever  be  a  painful  one, 
while  we  differ  thus  widely  ;  but  I  have  still  ano 
ther  secret  to  confide  to  you.  Listen  patiently. 
It  is  a  trust,  a  sacred  obligation  which  I  am  about 
to  confer  upon." 

There  was  now  an  evident  embarrassment  in 
the  tones  of  the  speaker.  "Antoinette,"  heat 


268  CASTINE. 

length  resumed,  "you  know.my  life  lias  been  past, 
in  foreign  climes.  I  have  seen  many  of  the  high 
and  the  rich  and  the  lovely,  unfascinated  ;  but 
Antoinette,  I  have  at  last  found  a  flower  that  I 
could  love.  A  rose  has  sprung  up  on  my  lonely 
path,  wild  indeed,  and  uncultured,  but  one  that 
I  could  win  and  wear  forever.  My  sister,  I  must 
leave  these  shores,  but  I  leave  behind  me  one 
whose  love  could  make  the  lone  wilderness  bright 
and  beautiful  as  Eden." 

A  cold  dew  gathered  on  Lucy's  brow;  she 
breathed  slow,  and  heavily. 

"During  my  late  secret  expedition, "  continued 
her  companion,  "I  met  with  a  beautiful  high- 
minded  and  gentle  creature,  all  unlearned  in  the 
knowledge  of  a  cold  and  heartless  world,  but  just 
such  an  one  as  the  bright  ideal  around  which  my 
affections  have  ever  clustered.  She  was  a  puri 
tan  girl,  and  her  name,  Lucy  Everett." 

A  half  murmured  exclamation  burst  from  the 
lips  of  his  auditress. 

"  Nay,  hear  me  through,  my  sister,  I  know  your 
prejudices  are  all  arrayed,  but  hear  me  through. 
To  your  energy  and  decision  of  character,  I  am 
about  to  confide  a  sacred  trust.  Lucy  Everett 
is  now  a  prisoner  of  the  Indians,  perhaps," — and 
his  voice  sunk,  "  perhaps  already  their  victim. 
The  very  night  I  left  her  native  village,  it  was 
burned  and  plundered,  and  many  of  its  inhabit 
ants  made  captive.  Among  these  were  Lucy  Eve 
rett  and  her  servant.  The  latter  I  found  among 
the  prisoners  at  Quebec,  but  of  the  former  I  can 
learn  nothing,  save  that  she  was  separated  from 
the  rest  on  the  first  night  of  her  captivity.  An 
toinette,  you  have  influence  with  our  father,  you 
have  powerful  friends  among  these  tribes. 


CASTfNL'.  269 

me  entreat  you  by  your  sisterly  affection,  to  as 
certain  her  fate,  and  to  spare  no  pains  or  toils  for 
her  deliverance.  You  hesitate.  Now  my  sister, 
you  have  an  opportunity  of  proving  the  truth  of 
your  affection.  As  the  preserver  of  my  life, 
Lucy  Everett  claims  your  kindness.  During  my 

residence  at  H ,  Vandreuil,  fully  aware  of  my 

sentiments  with  regard  to  some  of  his  proceed 
ings,  dispatched  messengers  with  instructions  to 
murder  me  in  secret,  and  but  for  the  exertions, 
of  this  same  Lucy  Everett,  I  might  now  be 
sleeping  in  a  distant  and  unknown  grave.  Oh 
had  I  time  to  tell  you  all,  you  would  not  wonder 
that  I  had  loved  this  puritan  stranger.  And,  An 
toinette,  she  was  like  my  mother — my  beautiful 
and  sainted  mother,  just  such  an  one  as  I  have 
heard  her  described,  when  she  first  came  to  our 
castle  from  her  lowly  and  sequestered  dwelling. 
Her  character,  her  religion,  her  nation  were  the 
same,  and  her  name  too,  my  fair  mother's  name 
was  Lucy — Lucy  Me  Gregor. 

"  Lucy  McGregor  !"  repeated  his  auditress,  in 
amazement,  completely  thrown  off'  her  guard  by 
this  unexpected  disclosure.  "Can  it  be? — Lucy 
McGregor  the  Baroness  de  Castine?"  But  she 
suddenly  ceased  her  hurried  exclamations  ;  her 
companion  was  now  gazing  at  her  with  looks  of 
fixed  astonishment. 

"Antoinette  !  Antoinette !"  he  exclaimed  doubt- 
ingly.  "  Prythee  speak  again — you  have  been 
sparing  of  your  words  this  evening  ;  and  sure  the 
light  is  not  so  dazzling,  that  you  need  sit  with 
that  impenetrable  veil  around  you.  Antoinette," 
he  exclaimed,  with  increased  surprise,  as  his  com 
panion  still  remained  silent  and  immoveable 
"surely  this  is  no  occasion  for  trifling." 


270  CASTINE. 

It  was  impossible  longer  to  elude  discovery. 
The  young  maiden  slowly  drew  aside  her  veil,  a 
shower  of  moonbeams  fell  upon  her  countenance, 
reveaHng  at  once  to  the  eye  of  her  astonished 
companion,  the  fair,  rose-dyed  features  of  Lucy 
Everett. 

The  oar  dropped  from  his  hand.  There  was 
something  almost  ludicrous,  in  the  expression  of 
that  sudden  and  bewildered  astonishment,  with 
which  he  now  silently  surveyed  her. 
'  Briefly  and  simply,  Lucy  Everett  told  her  tale. 
Meanwhile,  they  were  slowly  veering  towards  the 
appointed  place  of  rendezvous,  and  the  small  white 
rock  was  now  clearly  visible,  breaking  the  green 
outline  of  the  shore. 

"  And  do  you  think  then,"  exclaimed  the  youth 
in  reply  to  her  last  remark,  "  that  I  would  thus 
idly  throw  away  my  recovered  treasure?  What 
proof  have  you  of  the  good  faith  of  the  savage 
Alaska?  And  how  know  we,  that  the  whole  may 
not  be  some  treacherous  scheme  of  these  Indians, 
to  recover  again  their  victim  ?" 

"  But  the  token,  sir.  It  was  my  own  bracelet. 
I  cannot  be  mistaken,  and  look  yonder  is  their 
signal."  At  that  moment,  a  red  and  brilliant 
stream  of  light  burst  from  the  shore  near  the 
foot  of  the  rock. 

Louis  de  Castine  looked  earnestly  thither. 
He  leaned  for  a  moment  silently  upon  his  oar. 
"  Return  !  Did  I  hear  yen  aright,  Lucy  Everett? 
Return  to  the  palace  and  spread  the  alarm  !  Are 
these  the  lessons  of  gratitude  you  would  teach 
me.  No,  dear  Lucy,"  he  added  again  plying  the 
oar,  "  I  leave  you  no  more  until  I  see  you  safe 
under  your  father's  protection." 

They  had  now  approached  so  near  the  shore, 


CASTINR.  271 

that  a  lo\v  murmur  of  voices  reached  their  ears, 
and  a  single  figure  at  that  moment  became  visi 
ble,  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  rock. 

"  It  is  Alaska,"  whispered  Lucy,  as  her  com 
panion  looked  sternly  and  suspiciously  towards 
him.  "  Believe  me,  sir,  you  wrong  him.  There 
is  no  room  tor  treachery  in  his  noble  heart/' 

"  Well  then,  my  sweet  sister,"  murmured  the 
youth  suddenly  assuming  an  air  of  playfulness, 
which  became  his  handsome  features  ;  "  I  have 
one  word  more  for  your  private  ear.  Do  not 
forget  that  I  have  this  evening  made  you  my  con 
fident,  that  I  have  laid  open  to  you  my  whole 
heart,  the  very  sanctum  sanctorum  of  my  affec 
tions.  But  you  have  not  as  yet,  by  word  or  look, 
intimated  your  approval.  My  sweet  sister,  may  I 
construe  this  silence  in  my  favor?  When  I  am  far 
away  in  a  foreign  clime,  toiling  wearily  for  the 
vain  distinctions  and  honors  of  this  earth,  may  I 
not  have  the  assurance,  that  this  consecration  of 
my  affections  is  UL  least  not  regarded  with  dis 
pleasure?  Oh  when  my  thoughts  wander  to  those 
distant  shores,  and  that  one  being  for  whom  alone 
the  laurels  of  earth  are  worth  reaping,  let  me  feel 
that  my  devotion  is  not  regarded  as  wholly  un 
worthy  of  its  object." 

"My  brother/'  replied  the  maiden  with  a  smile 
brushing  away  the  dew  that  had  gathered  on  her 
cheek,  "she  of  whom  you  speak  is  a  lowly  be 
ing,  and  all  unworthy  of  the  love  of  one  so  noble. 
It  is  a  destiny  too  exalted  for  such  an  one  as  Lucy 
Everett."  As  she  spoke,  the  light  gleamed  full 
upon  her  countenance  ;  she  drew  the  veil  once 
more  around  her,  but  not  until  Louis  de  Castine 
had  read  upon  her  bright  and  blushing  features, 
the  full  approval  of  his  love. 


272  CASTINE. 

They  were  now  landed  in  silence,  among  the 
clustering  foliage  at  a  short  distance  below  the 
rock ;  and  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  her  conduct 
or,  Lucy  Everett  moved  tremblingly  along  the 
shore.  Ere  long,  Alaska  presented  himself  from 
the  thicket.  A  gleam  of  joy  kindled  his  dark 
features  as  he  recognized  the  English  captive, 
but  this  was  immediately  exchanged  for  some 
thing  of  sadness,  of  deep  and  melancholy  curiosi 
ty,  as  he  glanced  upon  the  form  of  her  conductor. 
After  gazing  a  moment  in  silence,  he  pointed  to 
the  thicket  before  them  ;  and  winding  around  a 
narrow  and  hidden  path,  they  now  followed  his 
steps. 

In  a  few  moments,  they  found  themselves  stand 
ing  upon  the  edge  of  a  wide  area,  in  the  center 
of  which  rose  the  blaze  which  had  served  as  their 
signal.  Several  Indians  were  scattered  on  the 
grass  around  it,  and  two  or  three  figures  like 
those  of  armed  soldiers,  slowly  pacing  before  it. 
For  a  few  moments,  Lucy  Everett  and  her  com 
panion  stood  the  silent  and  surprised  spectators 
of  the  scene;  but  the  eye  of  the  former  soon 
rested  on  a  single  figure,  apart  from  the  rest,  and 
reclining  in  the  attitude  of  devotion.  His  face 
was  turned  from  them,  but  the  light  gleamed  full 
upon  his  venerable  form,  and  on  the  gray  hair  as 
it  stirred  with  the  evening  breeze. 

The  next  moment,  with  a  wild  and  joyful  cry, 
Lucy  Everett  had  sprung  from  her  retreat.  "My 
father  !  Now  heaven  be  praised,  I  have  found  my 
father." 

Bewildered  at  that  unexpected  greeting,,jhe 
old  man  raised  his  eye  to  the  fair  creature  that 
was  bending  over  him.  She  flung  back  the  man 
tling  drapery,  and  there,  in  the  light  apparel  of 


CASTINE.  273 

the  catholic  maiden,  she   stood,   the  loved   and 
wept,  his  own  long  lost  and  beautiful  daughter. 

*         *         *        *         *         *         * 

Years  rolled  on,  and  the  war-cloud  still  brood 
ed  over  the  colonies  of  New-England,  when  the 
young  Baron  deCastine  once  more  set  foot  on  its 
shores.  Oh  the  fearful  traces  that  a  few  short 
years  can  write  on  the  cherished  treasures  of 
earth  !  Castine  was  desolate — its  frowning  walls 
vveie  levelled,  and  he  who  had  reared  them  was 
buried  amid  the  wilderness.  Antoinette  too  was 
gone,  his  noble  and  true  hearted  sister;  and  she 
now  moved  in  a  distant  circle  of  rank  and  fashion, 
the  wife  of  the  accomplished  Beaumont. 

And  the  young  beautiful  puritan  ?  She  too  was 
changed.  Four  years  had  not  passed  so  idly, 
that  the  warm  dreams  of  sixteen  summers  stiii 
lingered  on  her  brow.  Four  years  of  filial  devo 
tion,  of  patient,  unwearying,  unmurmuring  care 
had  not  left  their  own  fair  traces  in  the  heait,  and 
on  the  face  of  the  gentle  and  lovely. 

Lucy  Everett  was  an  orphan.  They  to  whom 
she  had  been  as  the  green  clustering  ivy  on  the 
ruins,  had  gone,  one  by  one,  to  heaven,  and  had 
left  her  on  the  earth  a  lonely  orphan. 

So  she  bade  a  last  farewell  to  the  green  graves 
of  her  parents,  and  her  native  land,  and  ere  long 
the  ancient  castle  of  Castine  rung  with  shouts  of 
welcome  to  the  youthful  Baroness,  no  less  kind 
and  beautiful,  but  more  blessed  of  heaven  than 
her  unfortunate  predecessor. 


APPENDIX. 


THE   REGICIDES. 


For  the  benefit  of  those  who  are  not  familiar  with  the 
history  of  the  Regicides,  I  have  collected  the  following 
authentic  information.  Some  slight  liberties  have  been 
taken  with  the  dates,  but  with  this  and  one  or  two  ex 
ceptions  more,  the  events  will  be  found  to  be  substan 
tially  those  which  form  the  outline  of  the  story. 

"Of  about  one  hundred  and  thirty  judges,  appointed 
in  the  original  commission  by  the  commons'  House  of 
Parliament,  for  the  tiial  of  king  Charles  I.  only  seventy- 
four  sat,  and  of  these  sixty  seven  were  present  at  the 
last  session,  and  were  unanimous  in  passing  the  defini 
tive  sentence  upon  the  king  ;  and  fifty-nine  signed  the 
warrant  for  his  execution,  1G49.  Of  these  fifty-nine, 
about  one  third,  or  twenty-four,  were  dead  at  the  resto 
ration,  i860.  Twenty-seven  persons,  judges  and  otheri, 
were  then  taken,  tried  and  condemned  ;  some  of  whom 
were  pardoned,  and  nine  of  the  judges,  and  five  others, 
as  accomplices,  were  executed.  Only  sixteen  judges 
tied,  and  finally  escaped  ;  three  of  whom,  Major  Ge 
neral  EDWARD  WHALLEY,  Major  General  WILLIAM 
GOFFE,  and  Colonel  JOHN  DIXWELL,  fled  and  secreted 
themselves  in  New-England,  and  died  here." — Stiles' 
History  of  the  Judges,  p.  7. 


276  APPENDIX. 

With  regard  to  the  antiquity  of  the  Whalleys,  the 
Rev.  Mark  Noble  gives  some  very  voluminous  details, 
in  his  Memoirs  of  the  family  of  Cromwell.  The  sub 
stance  of  the  matter  however  is,  that  General  Whal- 
ley  was  descended  from  an  illustrious  family  of  that 
name,  who  figured  in  England  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the 
Sixth,  and  that  his  father  married  the  daughter  of  Henry 
Cromwell  the  grandfather  of  Oliver,  the  Protector. 

"  Edward  Whalley  Esq.  the  judge,  being  a  second 
son,  was  brought  up  to  merchandise.  No  sooner  did  the 
contest  between  king  Charles  and  his  Parliament  blaze 
out,  than  he  (though  in  the  middle  age  of  life)  took  up 
arms  in  defence  of  the  liberties  of  the  subject  ;  and  this 
in  opposition  to  the  sentiments  of  his  nearest  relations. 
Probably  his  religious  opinions  determined  him  as  much 
or  more  than  any  other  consideration.  And  though  the 
usage  of  arms  must  have  been  new  to  him,  yet  he  early 
distinguished  himself  in  the  parliament  service,  in  many 
sieges  and  battles."  p.  9. 

"  Cromwell  confided  so  much  in  him,  that  he  com 
mitted  the  person  of  the  king  to  his  care.  The  loyalists 
have  charged  him  with  severity  to  his  royal  prisoner  ; 
but  the  monarch  himself,  in  a  letter  he  left  behind  him 
when  he  made  his  escape,  fully  exculpates  him  from 
that  charge." 

"He  was  one  of  the  commissioners  appointed  and  au 
thorized  by  Parliament,  as  the  High  Court  of  Justice, 
and  sat  in  that  august  and  awful  tribunal,  to  which  Ma 
jesty  was  rendered  amenable,  and  which  had  the  intre 
pidity  and  fortitude  to  pass  judgment  on  the  life  of  a 
king  ;  one  of  whose  judges  he  thus  was,  and  the  war 
rant  for  whose  execution  he  signed. 

"  At  the  battle  of  Dunbar,  Sept.  3,  1650,  he  with 
Monk,  commanded  the  foot,  and  greatly  contributed  to 
the  complete  defeat  of  the  Scotch  army. — **  Cromwell 
left  him  in  Scotland  with  the  rank  of  Commissary  Gene 
ral,  and  gave  him  the  command  of  four  regiments  of 
horse,  with  which  he  performed  many  actions  that  gain 
ed  him  great  honor." 


APPENDIX.  277 

He  continued  a  steady  friend  to  his  cousin  Oliver, 
after  he  had  raised  himself  to  the  sovereignty  ;  and 
was  entrusted  by  him  witli  the  government  of  the  coun 
ties  of  Lincoln,  Nottingham,  Derby,  Warwick, and  Lei 
cester,  by  the  name  of  Major  General.  He  was  one 
of  the  representatives  of  Nottinghamshire,  in  the  Par 
liament  held  in  1654  and  1666.  The  Protector  made 
him  Commissary  General  for  Scotland,  and  called  him 
up  to  his  other  House. 

"  He  was  looked  upon  with  jealousy  by  Parliament 
after  the  resignation  of  Richard  the  Protector,  especial 
ly  as  he  leaned  so  much  to  the  interests  of  the  army. 
For  this  reason  they  took  from  him  his  commission. 
This  still  endeared  him  the  more  to  the  army,  who  when 
Monk's  conduct  began  to  be  problematical,  deputed 
him  one  of  their  commissioners,  to  agree  to  terms  of 
peace  and  amity  with  that  in  Scotland.  But  Monk, 
who  knew  his  hatred  to  the  royal  family,  and  how  much 
reason  he  had  to  dread  their  return,  absolutely  refused 
to  treat  with  him." 

The  restoration  of  monarchy  soon  after  becoming 
visible,  he  saw  the  danger  of  his  situation.  For  besides 
the  loss  of  the  estate  he  possessed  of  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle,  and  the  manors  of  West-Walton  and  Tor- 
rington,  in  the  county  of  Norfolk,  part  of  Queen  Hen 
rietta  Maria's  jointure,  which  he  had  purchased,  and 
whatever  else  estate  he  had,  he  knew  even  his  life  would 
be  offered  up  at  the  shrine  of  the  king,  whom  he  had 
condemned  to  death  ;  he  therefore  prudently  retired. — 
Sept.  22,  1660,  a  proclamation  was  published)  setting 
forth  that  he  had  left  the  kingdom,  but  as  theie  was 
great  reason  to  suppose  he  had  returned,  £lOO  was 
offered  to  any  one  who  should  discover  him  in  any  of 
the  British  dominions,  and  cause  him  to  be  brought  in 
alive,  or  dead,  if  he  made  any  resistance.  Col.  Goffe 
was  included  in  this  proclamation." 

Here  the  European  historians  are  lost-     They  repre 
sent  that  these  two  exiles  escaped  to  the  continent,  and 
were  at  Lucerne,  in  Switzerland,  in  1664  ;  where  some 
24 


178 


APPENDIX. 


say  that  they  died  ;  others,  that  leaving  that  place,  they 
privately  wandered  about  for  some  years,  and  died  in  a 
foreign  clime,  but  when  or  where  unknown.  But  tru 
ly  their  remaining  history,  after  they  left  England,  1660, 
is  to  be  traced  only  in  America."  Ibid.  p.  10,  11. 

"  The  heroic  acts  and  achievments  of  Gen.  Whalley 
are  to  be  found   in  all  the  histories  of  those  times,  in 
the  records  of  Parliament,   and  the  other  oiiginal  me 
moirs  of  Whitlock,  Wellwood,  Rushworth,  and  the  pe 
riodical  publications  of  that  day,  now  before  me.     From 
all  which  it  appears,  that  he  was  a  man  of  true  and 
real  greatness  of  mind,  and  of  abilities  equal  to   any 
enterprize,  and  to  the  highest  councils  of  state,  civil,  po 
litical  and  military  ;  that  he  was  a  very  active  character 
in  the  national  events,  for  twenty  years  in  the  great  pe 
riod  from  1640  to  1660.     He  was  a  man  of  religion.     It 
has  been  the  manner  of  all  the  court  historians,  ever 
since  the  licentious  era  of  Charles  II.  to  confound  all  the 
characters  of  religion  with  the   irrational  and  extrava 
gant   fanaticism    of  that  day,  and  of  every  age.     But 
candor  ought  to  confess,  at  least  to  believe,  and  even  to 
know,  that  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  in  the  Parliamen 
tary  cause,    while   there  were  many  mad    enthusiasts 
both  in  religion  and  politics,  the  great  and  noble  trans 
actions   of  that  day,  show  there    was  also  great  wis 
dom,  great  abilities,  great  generalship,  great  learning, 
great  knowledge  of  law  and  justice,  great  integrity,  and 
rational,  sincere  religion,  to  be  found  conversant  among 
the  most  vigorous  and  active  characters  of  that  era. 
Among  these,  Whalley  ought  to  be  ranked  ;  and  to  be 
considered  as  a  man  of  firmness  in  a  good  cause,  and  like 
Daniel  at  the  Court  of  Persia,  of  a  religion  of  which  he 
was  not  ashamed  ;  of  an  open,  but  unostentatious  zeal, 
of  real,  rational  and  manly  virtue,  a  determined  ser 
vant  and  worshipper  of  the  most  high  God  ;  of  exem 
plary  holiness  of  life  ;  of  fervent  indeed,  but  sincere  and 
undissembled   piety.     The   commissioners  of  Notting 
hamshire  give  this  testimony  :  *'  They  think  themselves 
happy  in  having  a  person  of  so  high  merit  sent  down 


APPENDIX.  27 

to  them  as  Major  General  Whalley,  who  is  their  native 
countryman,  a  gentleman  of  an  honorable  family,  and 
of  singular  justice,  ability,  and  piety."  pp.  13,  14. 

The  following  is  the  character  of  Gen.  Whalley  as 
delineated  by  the  biographer  of  Cromwell. 

"  His  valor  and  military  knowledge  were  confessedly 
great ;  his  religious  sentiments  wild  and  enthusiastic. 
From  a  merchant's  counter  to  rise  to  so  many  and  so 
high  offices  in  the  state,  and  to  conduct  himself  with 
propriety  in  them,  sufficiently  evinces  that  he  had  good 
abilities  ;  nor  is  his  honesty  questioned  by  any,  which, 
as  one  of  the  king's  judges,  and  a  Major  General,  would 
lay  him  open  to  a  very  narrow  scrutiny." 

Little  is  recorded  of  Whalley's  children,  it  is  certain, 
however,  that  "  he  had  a  daughter  who  was  married  to 
Gen.  Goffe  ;  whom  Goffe  left  in  England,  and  with 
whom  he  kept  up  a  constant  correspondence,  by  the 
name  of  mother  Goldsmith,  while  in  exile  in  New- 
England."  p.  12. 

•'  William  Goffe,  Esq.  was  the  son  of  the  Rev.  Ste 
phen  Gofie,  a  puritan  divine,  rector  of  Stammer,  in 
Sussex.  Disliking  trade,  and  the  war  opening,  he  re 
paired  to  the  parliamentary  army  ;  where  his  merit  rais 
ed  to  be  a  quarter  master,  and  then  a  colonel  of  foot, 
and  afterwards  a  general.  He  was  a  member  of  par 
liament  ;  and  one  of  those  who  took  up  accusation 
against  the  eleven  members,  and  who  sentenced  the 
king,  and  signed  the  warrant  for  his  execution.  He 
rendered  the  Protector  great  service,  in  assisting  Colo 
nel  White  in  purging  the  parliament.  For  this  and  his 
other  services,  he  received  Lambert's  post  of  Major 
General  of  foot.  He  was  returned  for  Great  Yar 
mouth  in  the  Parliament  of  1654  ;  and  for  the  county 
of  Southampton  in  1656.  Last  of  all  he  was  called  up 
into  the  Protector's  House  of  Lords.  He  was  grateful 
to  the  Cromwell  interest,  and  signed  the  order  for  pro 
claiming  the  Protector  Richard.  This  attachment 
made  him  to  be  regarded  by  the  Parliament,  as  well  as 
by  the  army  with  jealousy,  after  they  began  to  be  dispo- 


280  APPENDIX. 

sed  to  a  return  of  monarchy.  And  Monk,  who  knew 
he  was  an  enemy  to  the  king's  return,  refused  to  admit 
him  to  treat  with  him,  though  sent  by  the  English  army. 
At  the  restoration  he  left  the  kingdom  with  Whalley, 
whose  daughter  he  married,  and  came  with  him  to  Bos 
ton,  in  New-England,  1660. 

The  following  account  of  the  Regicides  after  their  ar 
rival  in  America,  may  be  relied  on  as  authentic.  It  was 
compiled  by  Gov.  Hutchinson  from  the  diary  and  other 
papers  of  Goffe  then  in  his  possession,  and  was  first 
published  by  him,  as  a  marginal  note,  in  his  history  of 
Massachusetts,  vol.  p.  215. 

"  In  the  ship  which  arrived  at  Boston  from  London, 
the  27th  of  July,  1660,  there  came  passengers,  Colonel 
Whalley  and  Colonel  Goffe,  two  of  the  late  king's  judges. 
Colonel  Goffe  brought  testimonials  from  Mr.  John 
Row  and  Mr.  Seth  Wood,  two  ministers  of  a  church  in 
Westminister.  Colonel  Whalley  had  been  a  member 
of  Mr.  Thomas  Goodwin's  church.  Goffe  kept  a  jour 
nal,  or  diary,  from  the  day  he  left  Westminister,  May  4, 
until  the  year  1667  ;  which  together  with  several  other 
papers  belonging  to  him,  I  have  in  my  possession.  Al 
most  the  whole  is  in  characters,  or  short  hand,  not  diffi 
cult  to  decypher.  The  story  of  these  persons  has  never 
yet  been  published  to  the  world.  It  has  never  been 
known  in*  England.  Tndr  papers  after  their  death, 
were  collected,  and  have  remained  near  £H  hundred 
years  in  a  library  in  Boston.  It  must  give  some  enter 
tainment  to  the  curious.  They  left  London  before  the 
king  was  proclaimed.  It  does  not  appear  that  they 
were  among  the  most  obnoxious  of  the  Judges  ;  but  as 
it  was  expected  that  vengeance  would  be  taken  of 
some  of  them,  and  a  great  many  had  fled,  they  did  not 
think  it  safe  to  remain.  They  did  not  attempt  to  con 
ceal  their  persons  or  characters  when  they  arrived  at 
Boston,  but  immediately  went  to  the  governor,  Mr. 
Endicot,  who  received  them  very  courteously.  They 
were  visited  by  the  principal  persons  of  the  town  ;  and 
among  others,  they  take  notice  of  CoL  Crown's  coming 


APPJ:NL»I\.  211 

to  see  them.  lie  was  a  noted  royaiis;.  Although  they 
did  not  disguise  themselves,  yet  they  chose  to  reside 
at  Cambridge,  a  village  abom  k-ur  miles  distant  from 
the  town,  where  they  went  the  iirsi  day  they  arrived. 
They  went  publicly  to  meetings  on  the  Lord's  day,  and 
to  occasional  lectures,  fasts,  and  thanksgivings,  and  were 
admitted  to  the  sacrament,  and  attended  private  meet 
ings  for  devotion,  visited  many  of  the  principal  towns, 
and  were  frequently  at  Boston  ;  and  once  when  insulted 
there,  the  person  who  insulted  them  was  bound  to  his 
good  behavior.  They  appeared  grave,  serious  and  de 
vout  ;  and  the  rank  they  had  sustained  commanded  re 
spect.  Whalley  had  been  one  of  Cromwell's  Lieute 
nant  Generals,  and  Goffe  a  Major  General.  It  is  not 
strange  that  they  should  meet  with  this  favorable  re 
ception,  nor  was  this  reception  any  contempt  of  the 
authority  in  England.  They  were  known  to  have  been 
two  of  the  king's  judges  ;  but  Charles  II.  was  not  pro 
claimed,  when  the  ship  that  brought  them  left  Lon 
don.  They  had  the  news  of  it  in  the  Channel.  The 
reports  afterwards,  by  way  of  Barbadoes,  were  that  all 
the  judges  would  be  pardoned  but  seven.  The  act  of 
indemnity  was  not  brought  over  till  the  last  of  Novem 
ber.  When  it  appeared  that  they  were  not  excepted, 
some  of  the  principal  persons  in  the  government  were 
alarmed  ;  pity  and  compassion  prevailed  with  others. 
They  had  assurances  from  some  that  belongrd  to  the 
General  Court,  that  they  would  stand  by  them,  but  were 
advised  by  others  to  think  of  jemoving.  The  22d  of 
February,  1661,  the  governor  summoned  a  court  of  as 
sistants,  to  consult  about  securing  them,  but  the  ^o-iri 
did  not  agree  to  it.  Finding  it  unsafe  to  remain  ,-nr 
longer,  they  left  Cambridge  the  2Gth  following,  and  ar 
rived  at  New-Haven  the  7th  of  March,  1661. 

They  were  well  treated  at  New-Haven  by  the  mini* 
ters,  and  some  of  the  magistrates,  and  for  some  dar . 
§eerned  to  apprehend  themselves  out  of  danger.  BII 
the  news  of  the  King's  proclamation  being  brought  t.-« 
New-Haven,  they  were  obliged  to  abscond.  The  27th 
24* 


282  APPENDIX. 

of  March  they  removed  to  New-Milford,  and  appeared 
there  in  the  day  time,  and  made  themselves  known  ; 
but  at  night  returned  privately  to  New-Haven,  and  lay 
concealed  in  Mr.  Davenport  the  minister's  house,  until 
the  30th  of  April.  About  this  time  the  news  came  to 
Boston,  that  ten  of  the  judges  were  executed,  and  the 
governor  received  a  royal  mandate,  dated  March  5, 
1660,  to  cause  Whalley  and  Goffe  to  be  secured.  This 
greatly  alarmed  the  country,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  court  were  now  in  earnest  in  their  endeavors  to  ap 
prehend  them  ;  and  to  avoid  all  suspicion,  they  gave 
commission  and  instruction  to  two  young  merchants 
from  England.  Thomas  Kellond  and  Thomas  Kirk, 
zealous  royalists,  to  go  through  the  colonies  as  far  as 
Manhados,  in  searcli  of  them. 

"  They  made  diligent  search,  and  had  full  proof  that 
the  regicides  had  been  seen  at  Mr.  Davenport's,  and 
offered  great  rewards  to  the  English  and  Indians  who 
should  give  information,  that  they  might  be  taken  ;  but 
by  the  fidelity  of  their  friends  they  remained  undiscover 
ed.  Mr.  Davenport  was  threatened  with  being  call 
ed  to  an  account,  for  concealing  and  comforting  trait 
ors,  and  might  well  be  alarmed.  They  had  engaged  to 
surrender,  rather  than  the  country  or  any  particular 
persons  should  suffer  upon  their  own  account  ;  and  up 
on  intimation  of  Mr.  Davenport's  danger,  they  gener 
ously  resolved  to  go  to  New-Haven  and  deliver  them 
selves  up  to  the  authority  there.  The  miseries  they  had 
suffered,  and  were  still  exposed  to,  and  the  little  chance 
they  had  of  finally  escaping,  in  a  country  where  every 
stranger  is  immediately  known  to  be  such,  would  not 
have  been  sufficient  to  have  induced  them.  They  let 
the  deputy  goternor,  Mr.  Leete,  know  where  they 
were  ;  but  he  took  no  measures  to  secure  them  ;  and 
the  next  day  some  persons  came  to  them  to  advise  them 
not  to  surrender. 

"  On  the  thirteenth  of  October,  1564,  they  removed 
to  Hadley,  near  an  hundred  miles  distant,  travelling  only 
by  night ;  where  Mr.  Russel,  the  minister  of  the  place, 


APPENDIX.  283 

had  previously  agreed  to  receive  them.  Here  they  re 
mained  concealed  fifteen  or  sixteen  years,  very  few  per 
sons  in  the  colony  being  privy  to  it. 

"  The  minister  was  no  sufferer  by  his  boarders.  They 
received  more  or  less  remittances  every  year,  for  many 
years  together,  from  their  wives  in  England.  Those 
few  person?  who  knew  where  they  were,  made  them 
frequent  presents.  Richard  Siiltonstall,  Esq.  who  was 
in  the  secret,  when  lie  left  the  country  and  went  to  Eng 
land  in  1672,  made  thorn  a  present  of  fifty  pounds  at 
his  departure  ;  and  they  take  notice  of  donations  from 
several  other  friends.  They  nere  in  constant  terror, 
though  they  had  reason  to  hope  after  some  years,  that 
the  inquiry  for  them  was  over.  They  read  with  pleas 
ure  the  news  of  their  being  killed,  with  other  judges,  in 
Switzerland. 

"  A  letter  from  Goffe's  wife,  who  was  Whalley's 
daughter,  I  think  worth  preserving.  After  the  second 
year,  Goffe  writes  by  the  name  of  Walter  Goldsmith, 
and  she  of  Frances  Goldsmith;  and  the  correspondence 
is  carried  on,  as  between  a  mother  and  son.  There  is 
too  much  religion  in  their  letters  for  the  present  day  ; 
but  the  distresses  of  two  persons,  under  these  peculiar 
circumstances,  who  appear  to  have  lived  very  happily 
together,  are  strongly  described."' 

A  far  more  detailed  account  of  their  sojourn  in  New- 
Haven  is  furnished  by  President  Stiles  in  his  History  of 
the  Judges.     I  shall   make   only  a  few  extracts. 

"  About  the  time  the  pursuers  came  to  New-Haven, 
and  perhaps  a  little  before,  and  to  prepare  the  minds  of 
the  people  for  their  reception,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport 
preached  publicly  from  this  text,  Tsai.  xiv.  3.  4.  "  Take 
counsel,  execute  judgment,  make  thy  shadow  as  the 
night  in  the  midst  of  the  noon  day  ;  hide  the  out-casts, 
bewray  not  him  that  wandereth.  Let  mine  out-casts 
dwell  with  thee  ;  Moab,  be  thou  a  covert  to  them  from 
the  face  of  the  spoiler."  This  doubtless  had  its  effect, 
and  put  the  whole  town  upon  their  guard,  and  united 
them  in  caution  and  concealment. 


284  APPENDIX. 

As  Kelloml  and  Kirk,  besides  the  royal  mandate,  re 
ceived  a  warrant  from  Gov.  Endicot  at  Boston,  to  make 
search  through  the  colony  of  Massachusetts ;  so  passing 
out  of  that  jurisdiction  into  the  jurisdiction  of  Connec 
ticut,  they  obtained  a  similar  warrant  from  the  govern 
or,  Winthrop,  at  New-London,  and  upon  entering  into 
the  colony  of  New-Haven,  they  applied  to  Gov.  Leet, 
at  Guilford,  for  a  like  warrant  to  search  this  jurisdic 
tion  also.  They  lodged  at  Guilford,  and  the  next  day 
rode  to  New-Haven,  and  might  enter  about  noon.1' 
p.  32. 

The  governor  and  magistrates  convened  there  the 
same  day,  and  under  great  pressure  and  perplexity,  the 
pursuivants  demanding  a  warrant  in  the  king's  name 
for  a  general  search — which  was  refused."  p.  44. 

There  is  some  doubt  as  to  the  length  of  the  pursuers' 
stay  in  New-Haven.  President  Stiles  says. 

"  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  improbable  they  would  spend 
but  one  day  in  a  town  where  they  did  not  doubt  the  re 
gicides  they  came  three  thousand  miles  in  quest  of, 
vrere  ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  'tis  doubtful  whether 
they  would  themselves  do  much  at  actual  searching 
without  the  governor's  warrant,  which  was  refused. 
They  !might  however  go  into  a  few  houses,  as  Mr.  Da 
venport's,  Mr.  Jones's,  and  Mrs.  Eyers's,  and  finding  it 
in  vain,  give  over  further  search.  Governor  Hutchin- 
son  says,  "  they  made  diligent  search."  And  this  has 
always  been  the  tradition  in  New-Haven. "  p.  61. 

A  few  anecdotes  of  that  day's  search,  have  floated 
down  to  us  in  all  their  original  quaintness.  There  are 
two,  which  the  reverend  biographer  seems  to  dilate  up 
on  with  peculiar  satisfaction,  and  though  not  intimate 
ly  connected  with  the  story  may  perhaps  afford  some 
amusement  to  the  curious. 

«  While  the  pursuers  were  searching  the  town,  the 
judges,  in  shifting  their  situations,  happened  by  acci 
dent,  or  design,  at  the  house  of  a  Mrs.  Eyers,  a  respec 
table  and  comely  lady  ;  she  seeing  the  pursuivants  com 
ing,  ushered  her  guests  out  at  the  back  door,  who  walk- 


APPENDIX.  J;  .'» 

ing  out  a  little  ways,  instantly  returned  to  the  house, 
and  were  hid  and  concealed  by  her  in  her  apartments. 
The  pursuers  coming  in,  inquired  whether  the  regicides 
were  at  her  house  ?  She  answered  they  had  been  there, 
but  were  just  gone  away,  and  pointed  out  the  way  they 
went  into  the  fields  and  woods,  and  by  her  artful  and 
polite  address,  she  diverted  them,  put  them  upon  a  false 
scent,  and  secured  her  friends."  p.  31. 

"The  family  of  the  Sperrys  always  tell  this  story  ; 
that  while  the  judges  were  at  the  house  of  their  ances 
tor,  Mr.  Richard  Spcrry,  they  were  surprized  with  an 
unexpected  visit  from  the  pursuers,  whom  they  espied 
at  a  distance  coming  up  a  long  causeway  to  the  house, 
lying  through  a  morass,  and  on  each  side  an  impassible 
swamp,  so  that  they  were  seen  perhaps  fifty  or  sixty  rods 
before  they  came  up  to  the  house.  But  the  judges  es 
caped  into  the  woods  and  mountains,  and  eluded  their 
search."  pp.  31,32. 

To  the  same  date  the  president  is  disposed  to  refer 
the  anecdote  of  the  bridge.  But  the  accounts  of  this 
circumstance  are  extremely  contradictory  ;  the  only  cer 
tainty  with  regard  to  it  is,  that  the  regicides  were  at  one 
time  concealed  beneath  a  small  bridge  near  New-Hu- 
ven,  while  the  royal  pursuivants  rode  over  it,  and  per 
haps  there  is  as  little  fiction  in  the  particulars  I  have 
given  of  the  affair,  as  in  those  which  have  found  a 
place  in  graver  pages. 

The  commissioners'  own  account  of  their  journey  will 
perhaps  be  read  with  some  interest. 
Extracifrom  a  Report  made  to  Gor.  Endicot  by  Thomas 
Kellond  and   Thomas  Kirk. 

(<  Honorable  Sir. — We,  according  to  your  honor's  or 
der,  departed  in  search  after  Colonels  Goffe  and  \Vhal- 
ley  (persons  declared  traitors  to  his  Majesty)  from  Bos 
ton,  May  27th,  1661,  about  six  o'clock  at  ni»ht,  and  ar 
rived  at  Hartford  the  10th  day,  and  repaired  to  Gov 
ernor  Winthrop,  and  nave  him  your  honor's  letter  and 
his  Majesty's  order  for  the  apprehending  of  Colonels 
Whalley  and  Goffe,  who  gave  us  an  account  that  they 


286  APPENDIX. 

(lid  not  stay  there,  but  went  directly  for  New-Haven,  but 
informed  us  that  one  Symon  Lobden  guided  them  to 
the  town.  The  honorable  governor  carried  himself  very 
nobly  to  us,  and  was  very  diligent  to  supply  us  with  all 
manner  of  conveniences  for  the  prosecution  of  them, 
and  promised  all  diligent  search  should  be  made  after 
them  in  that  jurisdiction,  which  was  afterwards  perform 
ed.  The  llth  day  we  arrived  at  Guilford,  and  repair 
ed  to  the  deputy  governor,  William  Leet,  and  delivered 
him  your  honor's  letter  and  the  copy  of  his  Majesty's 
order  for  the  apprehending  of  the  aforesaid  persons, 
with  whom  at  that  time  were  several  persons.  After 
the  perusal  of  them,  he  began  to  read  them  audibly, 
whereupon  we  told  him  it  was  convenient  to  be  more 
private  in  such  concernments  as  that  was  ;  upon  which 
withdrawing  to  a  chamber,  he  told  us  he  had  not  seen 
the  two  colonels  not  in  nine  weeks.  We  acquainted 
him  with  the  information  we  had  received  that  they  were 
at  New-Haven  since  that  time  he  mentioned,  and  there 
upon  desired  him  to  furnish  us  with  horses,  &c. 
which  was  prepared  with  some  delays,  which  we  took 
notice  of  to  him,  and  after  parting  with  him  out  of 
his  house  and  in  the  way  to  the  ordinary,  came  to  us  one 
J)cnnis  Scranton,  and  told  us  he  would  warrant  that 
Colonels  Goffe  and  Whalley  at  the  time  of  his  speak 
ing  were  harbored  at  the  house  of  one  Mr.  Davenport, 
a  minister  at  New-Haven,  and  that  one  Goodman  Bish 
op,  of  the  town  of  Guilford,  was  able  to  give  us  the  like 
account,  and  that,  without  all  question,  Deputy  Leet 
knew  as  much,  and  that  Mr.  Davenport  had  put  in  ten 
pounds  worth  of  fresh  provisions  at  one  time  into  his 
house,  and  that  it  was  imagined  it  was  purposely  for  the 
entertainment  of  them. 

"  And  the  said  Scranton  said  further,  that  Goffe 
and  Whalley  should  say,  that  if  they  had  but  two  hun 
dred  friends  that  would  stand  by  them,  they  would  not 
care  for  Old  or  New-England  ;  whereupon  we  asked 
if  he  would  depose  to  that :  he  replied  he  would,  that  it 
was  openly  spoken  by  them  in  the  head  of  a  company 


APPENDIX.  287 

in  the  field  a  training.  Which  words  were  also  con 
firmed  by  several  others,  as  also  information  that  Gofie 
and  Whalley  were  seen  very  lately  betwixt  the  houses 
of  Mr.  Davenport  and  one  Mr  Jones,  and  it  was  ima 
gined  that  one  lay  at  one  of  their  houses,  and  the  other 
at  the  other's.  Upon  which  we  went  back  to  the  De«- 
puty's  and  required  our  horses,  with  aid  and  a  power  to 
search  and  apprehend  them  ;  the  horses  were  provided 
for  us,  but  he  refused  to  give  us  any  power  to  apprehend 
them,  nor  order  any  other,  and  said  he  could  do  nothing 
until  he  had  spoken  with  one  Mr.  Gilbert  and  the  rest 
of  the  magistrates;  upon  which  we  told  him  we  should 
go  to  New-Haven  and  stay  till  we  had  heard  from  him, 
but  before  we  took  horse  the  aforesaid  Dennis  Scranton 
gave  us  information,  there  was  an  Indian  of  the  town 
wanting,  which  he  told  us  was  to  give  notice  of  our 
coming. 

"  And  being  at  New-Haven,  which  was  the  thirteenth 
day,  the  deputy  arrived  within  two  hours  or  thereabouts 
after  us,  and  came  to  us  to  the  Court  Chamber,  where 
we  again  acquainted  him  with  tho  information  we  had 
received,  and  that  we  had  cause  to  believe  they  were 
concealed  in  New-Haven,  and  there  upon  we  required 
his  assistance  and  aid  for  their  apprehension  ;  to  which 
he  answered  that  he  did  not  believe  they  were  there. 
Whereupon  we  desired  him  to  empower  us,  or  order 
others  for  it  ;  to  which  he  gave  us  this  answer,  that  he 
could,  nor  would  not  make  us  magistrates;  we  replied, 
that  we  ourselves  would  personally  adventure  in  the 
search  and  apprehension  of  them  in  two  houses  where 
we  had  reason  to  imagine  they  lay  hid,  if  they  would 
give  way  to  it  and  enable  us  ;  to  which  he  replied,  he 
neither  would  nor  could  not  do  any  thing  until  the  free 
men  met  together.  To  which  we  set  before  him  the 
danger  of  that  delay  and  their  inevitable  escape,  and 
how  much  the  honor  and  service  of  his  Majesty  was 
despised  and  trampled  on  by  him,  and  that  we  suppo 
sed  by  his  unwillingness  to  assist  in  the  apprehension, 
he  was  willing  they  should  escape.  After  which  he 


288  APPENDIX. 

left  us  and  went  to  several  of  the  magistrates  and  were 
together  five  or  six  hours  in  consultation,  and  upon 
breaking  up  of  their  council,  they  would  not  nor  could 
not  do  any  thing  until  they  had  called  a  general  court  of 
freemen.  Whereupon  we  represented  to  them  your 
Honor's  and  Governor  Winthrop's  warrants  as  prece 
dents,  who  upon  the  receipt  of  his  Majesty's  pleasure 
and  order  concerning  the  said  persons,  stood  not  up 
on  such  niceties  and  formalities,  but  endeavored  to  make 
all  expedition  in  seizing  on  them,  if  to  be  found  in  their 
government,  and  also  how  your  honor  had  recommend 
ed  this  grand  affair  to  him,  and  how  much  the  honor  and 
justice  of  his  Majesty  was  concerned,  and  how  ill  his 
sacred  Majesty  would  resent  such  horrid  and  detestable 
concealment  and  abettings  of  such  traitors  and  regi 
cides  as  they  were,  and  asked  him  whether  he  would 
honor  and  obey  the  king  or  no  in  this  affair,  and  set  be 
fore  him  the  danger  which  by  law  is  incurred  by  any  one 
that  conceals  or  abets  traitors ;  to  which  the  deputy 
Leet  answered,  we  honor  his  majesty,  but  we  have  ten 
der  consciences. 

"  This  was  the  substance  of  our  proceedings,  there 
were  other  circumstantial  expressions,  which  are  too 
tedious  to  trouble  your  honor  withall,  and  which  we  have 
given  your  honor  a  verbal  account  of,  and  conceive  it 
needless  to  insist  any  further  ;  and  so  finding  them  ob 
stinate  and  pertinacious  in  their  contempt  of  his  Ma 
jesty,  we  came  away  the  next  day  in  prosecution  after 
them,  according  to  instructions,  to  the  governor  of  Man- 
hados,  from  whom  we  received  civil  respects,  and  a 
promise,  if  they  were  within  his  jurisdiction,  we  should 
command  what  aid  we  pleased,  but  for  sending  of  them 
according  to  your  honor's  request,  he  could  not  answer 
it  to  his  masters  at  home,  but  if  they  came  there  he  should 
give  your  honor  timely  notice.  Whereupon  we  request 
ed  his  honor,  the  governor  of  Manhados  to  lay  a  re 
straint  upon  all  shipping  from  transporting  them,  which 
he  promised  should  be  done,  and  also  to  give  order  to 


APPENDIX.  289 

his  fiscal  or  chief  officer  to  make  private  search  in  all 
vessels  for  them  that  were  going  thence. 

Upon  which  finding  any  other  means  ineffectual, 
we  made  our  return  hither  by  sea,  to  give  your  hon 
or  an  account,  and  to  which  (when  your  honor  shall 
require  it)  are  readyj.0  depose  to  the  truth  of  it,  and 
remain, 

Sir, 

Your  honor's  humble  servants, 
THOMAS  KELLOND, 
THOMAS  KIRK, 
Boston,  May  29th,  1661. 

30th  May,  1661. 

Mr.  Thomas  Kellond  and  Mr.  Thomas  Kirk  having 
delivered  this  paper  to  the  governor,  as  their  return,  in 
answer  to  what  they  were  employed,  deposed  before 
the  governor  and  magistrates,  that  what  is  there  ex 
pressed  is  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth. 

Per  EDWARD  RAWSON,  Secretary." 

The  pursuivants  state  in  this  report,  that  they  came 
to  Boston  by  water,  the  constant  tradition  however  is 
that  they  visited  New-Haven  on  their  return  ;  probably 
they  passed  through  it  to  Governor  Winthrop  at  New- 
London,  and  proceeded  from  thence  by  water. 

After  the  pursuivants  were  gone,  and  before  the  17th 
of  May,  the  magistrates  caused  a  thorough  though  fic 
titious  search  to  be  made  through  the  jurisdiction. 
They  sent  to  Totoket,  or  Branford. 

"  While  it  is  certain  that  the  pursuivants  came  here, 
had  an  interview  with  the  magistrates  to  no  purpose  ; 
and  that  the  judges  ceased  to  lodge  in  town  on  the  1 1th 
of  May,  two  days  before  they  came  ;  and  so  Governor 
Leet  might  say  very  truly  on  the  13th,  that  he  did  be 
lieve  they  were  in  town,  and  indeed  might  have  every 
reason  to  think  at  that  time,  that  they  were  absconded 
into  the  environs  or  the  woods  beyond  the  West-Rock. 
All  tradition  agrees  that  they  stood  ready  to  surrender 
25 


290  APPENDIX. 

rather  than  that  Mr.  Davenport  should  come  into  trouble 
on  their  account ;  and  they  doubtless  came  into  town 
from  Saturday  till  Monday  for  this  end,  and  Mr.  Gil 
bert  expected  their  surrendery.  But  in  this  trying  time 
their  friends,  for  their  sakes  adventured  to  take  the 
danger  upon  themselves,  and  risk  events.  A  great,  a 
noble,  a  trying  act  of  friendship  !  For  a  good  man, 
one  wouldj  even  dare  to  die  !  Great  was  the  peril  espe 
cially  of  Leet,  Davenport,  and  Gilbert !  Inveterate  the 
resentment  of  Kellond  and  Kirk  1  and  pointed  and 
pressing  the  remonstrances  of  the  governor  and  secreta 
ry  of  Boston.  The  magistrates  of  New-Haven  colony 
were  truly  brought  into  great  straits — the  fidelity  of 
their  friendship  heroic  and  glorious!  Davenport's  forti 
tude  saved  them !"  pp.  62,  63. 
"  At  a  meeting  of  the  General  Court  for  the  Jurisdic 
tion,  May  17,  1661. 

''The  deputy  governor  declared  to  the  court  the 
cause  of  the  meeting,  viz.  that  he  had  received  a 
copy  of  a  letter  from  his  Majesty  with  another  letter 
from  the  governor  of  the  Massachusetts,  for  the  ap 
prehending  of  Colonel  Whalley  and  Colonel  Gofie, 
which  letters  he  shewed  to  the  court,  acquainted  them 
that  forthwith  upon  the  receipt  of  them,  granted  his  let 
ter  to  the  magistrate  of  New-Haven,  by  the  advice  and 
concurrence  of  the  deputies,  there  to  make  present  and 
diligent  search  throughout  their  town  for  the  said  per 
sons  accordingly  ;  which  letters  the  messengers  carried 
but  found  not  the  magistrate  at  home  ;  and  that  he  him 
self  followed  after  the  messengers,  and  came  into  New- 
Haven  soon  after  them,  the  13th  May,  1661,  bringing 
with  him  Mr.  Crane,  Magistrate  at  Branford,  who  when 
they  were  come,  sent  presently  for  the  magistrates  of 
New-Haven,  and  Milford,  and  the  deputies  of  New-Ha- 
yen  Court.  The  magistrates  thus  sent  for  not  being 
yet  come,  they  advised  with  the  deputies  about  the  mat 
ter,  and  after  a  short  debate  with  the  deputies,  was  wri 
ting  a  warrant  for  search  of  the  above  said  colonels,  but 
the  magistrates  before  spoken  of  being  come,  upon  fur- 


APPENDIX.  29 1 

tlier  consideration  (the  case  being  weighty)  it  was  re 
solved  to  call  the  General  Court,  for  the  effectual  carry 
ing  on  of  the  work.  The  deputy  governor  further  in 
formed  the  court,  that  he  himself  and  the  magistrates 
told  the  messengers,  that  they  were  far  from  hindering 
the  search,  and  they  were  sorry  that  it  so  fell  out,  and 
were  resolved  to  pursue  the  matter,  that  an  answer 
should  be  prepared  against  their  return  from  the  Dutch. 
The  court  being  met,  when  they  heard  the  matter  de 
clared,  and  had  heard  his  Majesty's  letter,  and  the  let 
ter  from  the  governor  of  the  Massachusetts,  they  all  de 
clared  they  did  not  know  that  they  were  in  the  colony, 
or  had  been  for  divers  weeks  past,  and  both  magistrates 
and  deputies  wished  a  search  had  been  sooner  made, 
and  did  now  order  that  the  magistrates  take  care  and 
send  forth  the  warrant,  that  a  speedy  diligent  search  be 
made  throughout  the  jurisdiction,  in  pursuance  of  his 
Majesty's  commands,  according  to  the  letters  received, 
and  that  from  the  several  plantations  a  return  be  made, 
and  that  it  may  be  recorded.  And  whereas  there  have 
been  rumors  of  their  being  known  at  New-Haven,  it 
hath  been  inquired  into,  and  several  persons  examined, 
but  could  find  no  truth  in  these  reports,  and  for  any  that 
doth  appear,  are  but  unjust  suspicions,  and  groundless 
reports  against  the  place,  to  raise  ill  surmises  and  re 
proaches."  pp.  47,  48. 

The  following  is  Stiles'  account  of  their  residence 
at  the  cave. 

"  In  1785,  I  visited  Mr.  Joseph  Sperry,  then  living, 
aged  76,  a  grandson  of  the  first  Richard,  a  son  of  Dan 
iel  Sperry,  who  died  1751,  aged  86,  from  whom  Joseph 
received  the  whole  family  tradition.  Daniel  was  the 
sixth  son  of  Richard,  and  built  a  house  at  the  south  end 
of  Sperry's  farm,  in  which  Joseph  now  lives,  not  half  a 
mile  west  from  the  cave,  which  Joseph  shewed  me. 
There  is  a  notch  in  the  mountain  against  Joseph's  house, 
through  which  I  ascended  along  a  very  steep  acclivity 
up  to  the  cave.  From  the  south  end  of  the  mountain 
for  thice  or  four  miles  northward,  there  is  no  possible  as- 


292  APPENDIX. 

cent  or  descent  on  the  west  side,  but  at  this  notch, 
so  steep  is  the  precipice  of  the  rock.  I  found  the 
cave  to  be  formed,  on  a  base  of  perhaps  forty  feet 
square,  by  an  irregular  clump  or  pile  of  rocks,  or  huge 
broad  pillars  of  stone,  fifteen  and  twenty  feet  high, 
standing  erect  and  elevated  above  the  surrounding  su 
perficies  of  the  mountain,  and  enveloped  with  trees 
and  forest.  These  rocks  coalescing  or  contiguous  at 
top,  furnished  hollows  or  vacuities  below,  big  enough 
to  contain  bedding  and  two  or  three  persons.  The 
apertures  being  closed  with  boughs  of  trees  or  other 
wise,  there  might  he  found  a  well  covered  and  conve 
nient  lodgment.  Here,  Mr.  Sperry  told  me,  was  the 
first  lodgment  of  the  judges,  and  it  has  ever  since  gone 
and  been  known  by  the  name  of  Judges'  Cave  to  this 
day.  GofTe's  journal  says,  they  entered  this  cave  the 
15th  of  May,  and  continued  in  it  till  the  llth  of  June 
following.  Richard  Sperry  daily  supplied  them  with 
victuals  from  his  house,  about  a  mile  off;  sometimes 
carrying  it  himself,  at  dther  times  sending  it  by  one  of 
his  boys,  tied  up  in  a  cloth,  ordering  him  to  lay  it  on  a 
certain  stump  and  leave  it ;  and  when  the  boy  went  for 
it  at  night  he  always  found  the  basons  emptied  of  the 
provisions,  and  brought  them  home.  The  boy  wonder 
ed  at  it,  and  used  to  ask  his  father  the  design  of  it,  and 
he  saw  nobody.  His  father  told  him  there  was  some 
body  at  work  in  the  woods  that  wanted  it.  The  sons 
always  remembered  it,  and  often  told  it  to  persons  now 
living."  pp.  76,  77. 

"In  1604  they  arrived  at  Hadley,  and  took  up  their 
abode  at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Russel.  At  this 
house,  and  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Peter  Tilton,  Esq.  they 
spent  the  rest  of  their  lives,  for  fourteen  or  sixteen  years, 
in  dreary  solitude  and  seclusion  from  the  society  of  the 
world."  p.  108, 

It  would  be  quite  inexcusable  to  omit  in  this  connec 
tion  the  universal  tradition  of  a  singular  and  romantic 
incident,  that  occurred  during  that  period.  It  isthus  re 
lated  by  President  Stiles* 


APPENDIX.  293 

«'  During  their  abode  at  Hadley,  the  famous  and  most 
memorable  Indian  war  that  ever  was  in  New-England, 
called  King  Philip's  war,  took  place,  and  was  attended 
with  exciting  a  universal  rising  of  the  various  Indian 
tribes,  not  only  of  Narragansett  and  the  Sachemdom  of 
Philip,  at  Mount  Hope,  or  Bristol,  but  of  the  Indians 
through  New-England,  except  the  sachemdom  of  Uricas, 
at  Mohegan,  near  New- London.     Accordingly  the  Nip- 
mug,   Quanbaug,  and  northern  tribes  were  in  agitation, 
and   attacked  the   new   frontier   towns  along  through 
New-England,  and  Hadley  among  the  rest,  then  an  ex 
posed  frontier.     That  pious  congregation  were  observ 
ing  a  fast  at  Hadley,  on  the  occasion  of  this  war  ;  and 
being  at  public  worship  in  the  meeting-house  there  on  a 
a   fast  day,   Sept.    1,   1675,   were  suddenly  surrounded 
and  surprized  by  a   body  of  Indians.     It  was  the  usaare 
in  the  frontier    towns,    and    even    at    New-Haven,    in 
those  Indian   wars,  for  a  select  number  of  the  congre 
gation  to  go  armed  to  public  worship.     It  was  so  at 
Hadley  at  this  time.     The  people  immediately  took  to 
their  arms,  but  were  thrown  into  great  consternation 
and  confusion.     Had  Hadley  been  taken,  the  discovery 
of  the  judges  had  been  inevitable.     Suddenly,  and   in 
the  midst  of  the  people  there  appeared  a  man  of  a  very 
venerable  aspect,  and  different  from  the  inhabitants  in 
his  apparel,  who  took  the  command,  arranged,  and  or 
dered  them  in  the  best  military  manner,  and  under  his 
direction  they  repelled  and  routed  the  Indians,  and  the 
town  was  saved.     He  immediately  vanished,  and  the  in 
habitants  could  not  account  for  the  phenomenon,  but 
by  considering  that  person  as  an  angel  sent  of  God  up 
on  that  special  occasion  for  their  deliverance  ;  and  for 
some  time  after  said  and  believed  that  they  had  been 
delivered   and   saved  by  an*  angel.     Nor  did  they  know 
or  conceive  otherwise,  till  fifteen  or  twenty  years  after, 
when  it  at  length   became  known  at  Hadley  that  the 
two  judges  had  been   secreted  there ;  which  probably 
they  did  not  know  till  after  Mr.  Russel's  death,  in  1602. 
This  story,  however,  of  the  angel  at  Hadley,  was  before 
25* 


294  APPENDIX. 

this  universally  diffused  through  New- England  by  means 
of  the  memorable  Indian  war  of  1675.  The  mystery 
was  unriddled  after  the  revolution,  when  it  became  not 
so  very  dangerous  to  have  it  known  that  the  judges  had 
received  an  asylum  here,  and  that  Goffe  was  actually  in 
Hadley  at  that  time."  pp.  109,  110. 

"  General  Whalley  died  at  Hadley  certainly  after 
1674,  probably  about  1678.  And  Gen.  Goffe  is  to  be 
heard  of  no  more  after  1679.  p.  113." 

"  The  tradition  is  that  after  Whalley's  death,  Goffe 
went  off,  first  to  Hartford,  afterwards  to  New-Haven, 
where  he  was  suspected  and  in  danger  of  being  known 
by  his  extraordinary  dexterity  with  the  sword,  shewn 
on  a  particular  occasion.  And  in  apprehension  of  dan 
ger,  he  went  off'  from  New-Haven.  Here  tradition  ends 
with  respect  to  Goffe."  p.  199. 

'<!  was  at  Hadley,  May  21,  1792,  making  inquiries 
only  for  gratifying  my  own  curiosity,  and  without  a 
thought  of  compiling  this  history.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Hop 
kins  carried  me  to  Mr.  Russel's  house,  still  standing.  It 
is  a  double  house,  two  stories  and  a  kitchen.  Although 
repaired  with  additions,  yet  the  chamber  of  the  judges 
remains  obviously  in  its  original  state  unmutilated,  as 
when  these  exiled  worthies  inhabited  it.  Adjoining  to 
it  behind,  or  at  the  north  end  of  the  large  chimney,  was 
a  closet,  in  the  floor  of  which  I  saw  still  remaining  the 
trap  door,  through  which  they  let  themselves  down  into 
an  under  closet,  and  so  thence  descending  into  the  cel 
lar  for  concealment,  in  case  of  search  or  surprise.  I 
examined  all  those  places  with  attention,  and  with  heart 
felt  sympathetic  veneration  for  the  memories  of  those 
long  immured  sufferers,  thus  shut  up  and  secluded  from 
the  world  for  the  tedious  space  of  fourteen  or  sixteen 
years,  in  this  voluntary  Bastile.  They  must  have  been 
known  to  the  family  and  domestics ;  and  must  have 
been  frequently  exposed  to  accidental  discoveries,  with 
all  their  care  and  circumspection  to  live  in  stillness. 
That  the  whole  should  have  been  effectually  concealed 


APPENDIX.  295 

in  the  breasts  of  the  knowing  ones,  is  a  scene  of  secre 
cy  truly  astonishing.''  pp.  20t>,  '201. 

The  fate  of  Goffe  after  leaving  Haclley  is  quite  uncer 
tain.  There  are  some  circumstances  however,  which 
render  my  conjecture  extremely  probable.  The  idea 
of  his  openly  residing  at  New-Haven  was  first  suggest 
ed  by  the  facts  relative  to  Dixwell,  another  of  the  fugi 
tive  regicides,  who  was  also  for  a  short  period  secreted 
in  Hadley.  The  latter  had  lived  for  many  years  in  New- 
Haven  under  the  assumed  name  of  Davids,  unsuspected, 
in  a  contented  and  happy  retirement,  loved  and  honored 
by  many,  though  his  real  name  and  condition  were 
known  to  but  few.  He  was  the  correspondent  and  in 
timate  friend  of  Cofte,  and  to  whom  would  the  latter  be 
so  likely  to  go,  upon  the  death,  of  his  aged  companion, 
as  to  him  who  had  sympathized  in  his  deepest  misfor 
tunes,  and  why  should  not  his  success  and  safety  encou 
rage  him  to  make  trial  of  the  same  experiment  ?  Certain 
it  is,  that  the  low,  rude  stone,  which  bears  the  initials  of 
the  real  and  assumed  name  of  Dixwell  stands  by  another 
no  less  low,  and  rude,  and  still  more  mysterious  in  its 
inscriptions.  And  it  needs  but  a  slight  stretch  of  ima 
gination  in  those  who  look  upon  it,  to  believe  that  the 
exiled  stranger  sleeps  beneath,  with  his  brother  exile, 
and  but  a  faint  tinge  of  romantic  feeling,  to  read  in  those 
ancient  and  moss  grown  letters  a  more  touching  eulogy 
than  any  that  can  adorn  the  monument  of  his  kingly  per 
secutors. 

Much  conjecture  at  one  time  existed  with  regard  to 
the  sepulture  of  Whalley.  All  doubt  was  removed  a 
few  years  since  by  the  discovery  of  his  remains  in  the 
house  of  Mr.  Russel  at  Hadley.  They  were  found  in 
the  cellar,  inclosed  and  concealed  within  the  stone  wall. 


THE  FAIR  PILGRIM. 


"  IN  1620,  the  same  month  the  Puritans  arrived  on  the 
coast  from  England,  James  I.  issued  a  charter  to  the 
Duke  of  Lenox,  Marquis  of  Buckingham,  and  others, 
styling  them  the  "  Grand  Council  of  Plymouth,  for 
planting  and  governing  New  England,  in  America." 
This  patent  granted  to  them  the  territory  between  the 
40°  and  48°  of  north  latitude." 

"  From  the  tranquility  which  the  Brownists  had  en 
joyed  at  New  Plymouth,  and  the  sufferings  to  which 
those  who  held  the  same  opinion  were  exposed  in  Eng 
land,  an  association  was  formed  by  Mr.  White,  a  cler 
gyman  at  Dorchester,  in  England,  for  the  purpose  of 
leading  a  new  colony  to  that  part  of  America  where  the 
brethren  were  settled.  They  obtained  from  the  Grand 
Council  of  Plymouth,  that  part  of  New  England  which 
lies  three  miles  to  the  south  of  Charles  river,  and  three 
miles  to  the  north  of  Merrimac  river. 

"  As  the  patent  of  the  Council  of  Plymouth  conveyed 
no  powers  of  government,  king  Charles,  by  their  urgent 
solicitation,  granted  them  these  powers  by  charter. 
The  new  adventurers  were  incorporated  by  the  council 
as  the  body  politic  ;  they  were  empowered  to  dispose  of 
their  lands,  and  to  govern  the  people  who  should  settle 
on  them.  The  first  governor  and  his  assistants,  were 
to  be  named  by  the  crown  ;  the  right  of  electing  their 
successors  was  vested  in  the  members  of  the  corpora 
tion.  In  consequence  of  this  alteration,  seventeen  ves 
sels  sailed  for  America  in  1629.  When  they  arrived  at 
New-England,  they  found  there  the  remains  of  a  small 
body  of  Puritans,  who  had  left  their  country  the  year 
before  under  Endicot ;  and  uniting  with  these,  they  set 
tled  at  a  place  to  which  Endicot  had  given  the  name  of 
Salem.  This  was  the  first  permanent  town  in  Massa- 


APPENDIX.  207 

c.husetts.  They  soon  explored  the  coast  in  quest  of  a 
better  station,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  ninny  towns, 
among  which  were  Boston  and  Charlestown." 

"On  no  part  of  the  history  of  the  United  States,  per 
haps  we  might  say  of  the  world,  does  the  eye  of  the 
philanthropist  rest  with  more  interest,  than  on  the  ac 
count  of  this  little  devoted  hand,  now  commonly  spoken 
of  under  the  touching  appellation  of  the  PILGRIMS.  They 
possessed  a  much  higher  cast  of  moral  elevation,  than 
any  who  had  before  sought  the  new  world  as  a  residence. 
The  hope  of  gain  was  the  motive  of  former  settlers, — 
the  love  of  God  was  theirs.  In  their  character  and  in 
their  institutions,  we  behold  the  germ  of  that  love  of 
liherty,  and  those  correct  views  of  the  natural  equality  of 
man,  which  are  now  fully  developed  in  the  American 
constitution." — \Villard's  Republic  of  America,  pp. 
48,  51,  46. 

"Gentlemen  of  ancient  and  worshipful  families,  and 
ministers  of  the  gospel,  then  of  great  fame  at  homo,  and 
merchants,  husbandmen,  artificers  to  the  number  of  some 
thousands,  did  for  twelve  years  together  carry  on  this 
transplantation.  It  was  indeed  a  banishment  rather  tiian 
a  removal,  which  was  undergone  by  this  glorious  gene 
ration,  and  you  may  be  sure  sufficiently  afflictire  to  men 
of  estate,  breeding  and  conversation.  As  the  hazard 
which  they  ran  in  this  undertaking  was  of  such  extraor- 
dinarincss,  that  nothing  less  than  a  strange  and  strong 
impression  from  heaven  could  have  thereunto  moved  the 
hearts  of  such  as  were  in  it  ;  so  the  expense  with  which 
they  carried  on  the  undertaking  was  truly  extraordinary. 
Briefly,  the  God  of  heaven  served  as  it  were,  a  summons 
upon  the  spirits  of  his  people  in  the  English  nation  ; 
stirring  up  the  spirits  of  thousands  which  never  saw  the 
faces  of  each  other,  with  a  most  unanimous  inclination 
to  leave  all  the  pleasant  accommodations  of  their  native 
country,  and  go  over  a  terrible  ocean,  into  a  more  ter 
rible  dcsart,  for  the  pure  enjoyment  of  all  his  ordinan 
ces." 


298  APPENDIX. 

"  General  Considerations  for  the  Plantation  of  New 
England. 

"  It  will  be  a  service  unto  the  Church  of  great  conse 
quence,  to  carry  the  gospel  into  those  parts  of  the  world, 
and  raise  a  bulwark  against  the  kingdom  of  antichrist, 
which  the  Jesuites  labor  to  rear  up  in  all  parts  of  the 
world. 

"  All  other  churches  of  Europe  have  been  brought  un 
der  desolations ;  and  it  may  be  feared  that  the  like  judg 
ments  are  coming  upon  us;  and  who  knows  but  God 
hath  provided  this  place  to  be  a  refuge  for  many,  whom 
he  means  to  save  out  of  the  general  destruction. 

"  What  can  be  a  better  or  nobler  work,  and  more 
worthy  of  a  Christian,  than  to  erect  and  support  a  re 
formed  particular  church  in  its  infancy,  and  unite  our 
forces  with  such  a  company  of  faithful  people,  as  by  a 
timely  assistance  may  grow  stronger  and  prosper  ;  but 
for  want  of  it,  may  be  put  to  great  hazards,  if  not  be 
wholly  ruined. 

"  If  any  such  as  are  known  to  be  godly,  and  live  in 
wealth  and  prosperity  here,  shall  forsake  all  this  to  join 
with  this  reformed  church,  and  with  it  run  the  hazard  of 
a  hard  and  mean  condition,  it  will  be  an  example  of  great 
nse,  both  for  the  removing  of  scandal,  and  to  give  moie 
life  unto  the  faith  of  God's  people  in  their  prayers  for 
the  plantation,  and  also  to  encourage  others  to  join  the 
more  willingly  in  it." — Mather's  Magnolia,  Vol.  I. 
pp.  64,  65. 

By  copying  the  following  extract  we  do  not  intend  to 
assert  that  the  outline  of  this  story  is  true,  but  merely  to 
show  that  the  example  of  devotedness  here  exhibited,  is 
not  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  the  Pilgrims. 

"  Being  happily  arrived  at  New-England,  our  new 
planters  found  the  difficulties  of  a  rough  and  hard  wil 
derness  presently  assaulting  them  :  of  which  the  worst 
was  the  sickliness  which  many  of  them  had  contracted 
by  these  other  difficulties.  Of  those  who  soon  died  after 
their  first  arrival,  not  the  least  considerable  was  the  lady 
Arabella,  who  left  an  earthly  paradise  in  the  family  of 


APPENDIX.  299 

nn  Earldom,  to  encounter  the  sorrows  of  a  wilderness, 
for  the  entertainments  of  a  pure  worship  in  the  house  of 
God;  and  then  immediately  left  that  wilderness  for  the 
heavenly  paradise,  whereto  the  compassionate  Jesus,  of 
whom  she  was  a  follower,  had  called  her.  The  mortal 
ity  thus  threatening  of  this  new  plantation  so  enlivened 
the  devotions  of  this  good  people,  that  they  set  themselves 
by  fasting  and  prayer  to  obtain  from  God  the  removal 
of  it.;  and  their  brethren  at  Plymouth  also  attended  the 
like  duties  on  their  behalf;  the  issue  whereof  was,  that 
in  a  little  time  they  not  only  had  health  restored,  but  they 
likewise  enjoyed  the  special  directions  and  assistance  of 
God,  in  the  further  prosecution  of  their  undertakings." 
Mather's  Magnolia,  Vol.  I.  p.  71. 


CASTINE. 


A  CONSIDERABLE  pioportion  of  this  story  is  fictitious. 
The  following  facts,  however,  are  interwoven  with  other 
incidents,  designed  to  illustrate  some  peculiarities  in  the 
condition  of  the  New-England  settlers. 

"  The  peace  of  Ryswick  was  of  short  duration.  In 
May,  1 702,  war  was  proclaimed  by  England  both  against 
France  and  Spain.  The  American  colonies  of  both  na 
tions  took  an  active  part.  While  the  English  colonies 
were  at  war  with  the  Spanish  in  the  south,  they  had  a 
more  formidable  enemy  to  encounter  in  the  French  at 
( 'an.ida.  Notwithstanding  the  eastern  Indians  had 
given  a  solemn  assurance  of  their  determination  to  re 
main  at  peace  with  New-England,  yet  they  soon  com 
menced  hostilities,  and  the  whole  country  from  Casco  to 
Wells  was  devastated." — Willard's  Republic  of  Amer 
ica,  p.  97. 

To  the  living  witnesses  of  these  atrocities,  the  name 
of  Hertel  de  Rouville  was  fearfully  familiar.  He  was 
pre-eminent  among  the  French  officers  in  Canada,  for 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

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